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Prof.  Benjamin  H.  Lehman 


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A    MOST   INTERESTING   AMERICAN    BIOGRAPHY 
D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 

HAVE    JUST    PUBLISHED    A    NEW    EDITION 

OF    THE 

LIFE    OF   JOHN    RANDOLPH, 

OF  BOANOKE. 

BY  HUGH  A.  GARLAND. 

With  Two  Engraved  Portraits.     Two  vols.  in  one,  8vo.,  cloth.     Price  $1  60 

"  Mr.  Garland  has  given  us  a  daguerreotype  of  a  character  more  eccentric  an  3 
variable  than  Uranus  itself,  and  withal  two  volumes  of  exceedingly  choice  historical 
reading."  —  Republic. 

"The  Biography  of  Randolph  has  greater  charms  than  the  most  exciting  fiction.' 
—  Charleston  Mercury. 

"  A  good  life  of  this  remarkable  man  has  long  been  desired.  Mr.  Garland  has 
furnished  an  extremely  readable  book  ;  the  two  volumes  not  only  contain  a  history 
of  his  life,  and  an  analysis  of  his  character,  but  an  interesting  account  of  the  politics 
of  the  public  men  of  the  day."  —  Orescent. 

"  Since  Kennedy's  Life  of  William  Wirt  we  have  had  no  biography,  certainly  no 
American  biography,  which  will  at  all  compare  in  interest  with  this  work.  It  must 
he  read  by  multitudes  with  intense  interest."  —  Newark  Daily  Advertiser. 

"  Mr.  Garland  has  made  good  use  of  his  material,  and  has  given  a  striking  and 
accurate  portraiture  of  the  erratic  and  brilliant  subject  of  his  pen."  —  N.  0.  DeUa. 

"  As  a  biography  it  is  marked  by  directness  and  unity  of  purpose,  and  by  com 
prehensiveness  and  variety  of  manner."  —  Boston  Post. 

"  It  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  American  biographies  with  which  we  are  ac- 
quainted." —  Evening  Post. 

"  The  work  is  written  with  taste  and  vigor,  and  its  biographical  portion  is  well 
constructed  and  full  of  interest."  —  Journal  of  Commerce. 

"  This  book  fills  a  blank  in  the  biographical  notices  of  distinguished  Americana. 
The  two  volumes  give  us  a  faithful  account  of  his  whole  career,  an  analysis  of  his 
celebrated  speeches,  &c."  —  Phila.  Enquirer. 

"  Mr.  Garland's  delineation  of  the  subject  of  the  biography  ia  certainly  a  power- 
fil  one."  —  Commercial  Advertiser. 

"  The  book  is  in  the  most  attractive  style  of  biographical  writing,  and  is  a  val 
uable  addition  to  our  national  literature."  —  Eclectic. 

"  Randolph  was  pre-eminently  a  curious  man.  He  never  did  any  thing  in  a 
commonplace  way.  The  simplest  acts  of  his  life  have  that  dramatic  interest  which 
is  the  charm  of  a  biography.  We  cordially  commend  the  work."  —  Rochester  Dem. 

"  Our  advice  is,  to  read  Mr.  Garland's  book  and  study  the  character  of  its  great 
"  —  Natchez  Courier. 


"  Mr.  Gariand  has  ably  performed  his  duty  as  a  biographer  and  historian."  — 
Hartford  Courant. 

"  John  Randolph  was  exceedingly  original,  eccentric,  and  singular.  From  1799 
to  1881  he  was  almost  constantly  in  public  life,  and  his  association  with  the  distin- 
guished and  marked  men  of  that  period,  as  well  as  his  own  public  action,  are  pecu- 
liarly interesting.  We  can  do  no  less  than  commend  the  work  to  general  perusal." 
—  Syracuse  Journal. 

"  We  have  in  this  work  a  faithful  and  well-drawn  picture  of  one  of  the  most  re- 
markable men  of  modern  times."  —  Albany  Atlas. 

^  We  have  had,  in  our  young  republic,  some  indigenous  specimens  of  chaiacter 
quite  unique,  and  among  them  is  John  Randolph.  Although  a  thousand  anecdotes 
of  his  satirical  power,  his  eccentric  habits,  and  curious  adventures  are  rife  in  the 
land,  we  have  had  no  complete  memoir  until  the  one  before  us,  which  we  doubt  not 
will  be  read  with  avidity.'*—  Troy  Whig. 

"  Those  who  laugh  and  weep  over  some  of  the  pages  of  Dickens,  will  find  their 
wnse  of  pathos  and  numor  awakened  by  many  a  scene  and  saying  here  recorded  ol 
Randolph  of  Roanoke."—  Home  Journal. 


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PARTY   LEADERS; 


SKETCHES 


THOMAS   JEFFERSON,   ALEX'R  HAMILTON, 

ANDREW  JACKSON,  HENRY  CLAY, 

JOHN  RANDOLPH,  OF  ROANOKE, 


NOTICES  OF  MAM  OTHER  DISTINGUISHED  AMERICAN  STATESMEN 


BY 

JO.   G.   BALDWIN, 

ATJTHOB  OF  "THE  FLUSH  TIMES  OF  ALABAMA  AND  MISSISSIPPI.' 


NEW   YORK: 
D.     APPLETON    AND     COMPANY, 

346  &  348  BROADWAY. 

LONDON:    16    LITTLE    BRITAIN. 

1855. 


Entered  according  to  act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1854,  by 

COENELIUS  C.  BALDWIN, 

In  the  clerk's  office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  Western  Dis- 
trict of  Virginia. 


F 

502,5 


TO  THE  MEMORY  OP  THE  LATE 

BRISCOE  G.  BALDWIN, 

Recently  one  of   the  Justices  of   the  Court  of  Appeals  of  Vir- 
ginia. 

In  grateful  acknowledgment  of  the  obligations 
conferred  upon  the  author  in  his  youth,  and  as  a 
feeble  expression  of  veneration  for  the  honored  dead, 
this  book,  with  reverential  affection,  is  dedicated. 


PREFACE. 


THE  design  of  this  work  is  to  give  some  account  of 
the  prominent  events,  and  of  some  of  the  eminent 
personages  connected  with  the  political  history  of  the 
United  States.  It  was  obviously  impossible,  within 
the  compass  of  a  small  volume,  to  compress  an  elabo- 
rate review  of  the  lives  of  all  the  men  who  have  fig- 
ured, and  of  all  the  measures  that  have  been  agitated, 
in  the  course  of  the  eventful  period,  extending  through 
three  quarters  of  a  century,  comprehended  within  this 
work.  The  leading  events  of  this  public  and  private 
history,  therefore,  are  all  that  have  been  attempted. 
The  author  has  sought  to  perform  his  task  with 


8  PREFACE. 

candor,  both  in  the  narrative  and  criticism,  and  espe- 
cially in  entire  freedom  from  all  partisan  bias.  How 
far  he  has  succeeded,  it  is  for  others  to  judge.  The 
work  makes  no  pretension  to  research.  The  events 
are  matters  of  familiar  history.  All  that  the  writer 
has  attempted  has  been  a  concise  narrative  of  the 
facts,  grouping  them  together  in  a  compact  and  per- 
spicuous shape,  with  such  reflections  as  seemed  to  him 
to  be"  just  and  appropriate.  If  he  has  succeeded  in 
this,  and  in  giving  to  his  narrative  a  fresh  and  attrac- 
tive form,  his  object  has  been  accomplished. 

If  it  be  objected  that  the  work  is  wanting  in  the 
sober  gravity  and  subdued  tone,  by  some  supposed  to 
be  the  only  legitimate  style  of  history,  he  begs  to  re- 
mind the  critic  that  he  sought  to  blend  interest  with 
instruction,  and,  especially,  to  make  his  pages  attrac- 
tive to  young  men.  To  secure  this  end,  he  has  labored 
to  unite  biography  with  political  history  ;  and,  by  pla- 
cing rival  leaders  in  antagonism,  to  make  events  and 
principles  stand  out  in  bold  relief,  and  to  give  a  more 
striking  expression  to  the  characters  he  has  ventured 
to  sketch. 

An  ardent  admirer  of  some  of  the  great  persona- 


PREFACE.  9 

ges  of  whom  he  has  written,  and  disposed  to  look  with 
a  charitable,  rather  than  a  censorious,  eye  upon  the 
conduct  of  men,  he  may  have  been  insensibly  seduced 
into  extravagant  appreciation  of  some  of  the  illus- 
trious characters  treated  of.  If  so — though  historic 
error  should  of  course  in  all  cases  be  avoided — he 
deems  it  better  to  err  upon  the  side  of  unmerited 
praise  than  of  unjust  depreciation  ;  especially  where 
the  memories  of  men  are  concerned,  whom  the  gen- 
eral voice  concurs  in  pronouncing  public  benefactors. 

It  was  the  design  of  the  author  to  have  embraced 
in  his  work  two  other  eminent  party  leaders,  Daniel 
Webster  and  John  C.  Calhoun.  But — besides  that 
their  eulogies  and  their  writings  have  been  so  recently 
published,  and  the  further  fact  that  it  would  not  be 
possible  to  include  even  a  meagre  account  of  men  so 
eminent,  and  whose  lives  were  so  fertile  of  political 
incident,  within  the  compass  of  this  volume — the 
short  time  at  the  disposal  of  the  author  forbade  the 
execution  of  this  design.  Should  the  public  favor  be 
accorded  to  this  work,  the  original  scheme  may,  in 
some  other  form  than  the  present,  be  carried  out,  at 
some  future  time. 


10  PREFACE. 

Only  one  of  these  papers — Jackson  and  Clay — in 
a  somewhat  ruder  form,  has  been  heretofore  published. 
The  favor,  kindly  extended  to  that  paper,  by  gentle- 
men of  high  position  and  distinction,  has  suggested 
the  idea  of  this  larger  design,  and  this  more  ambitious 
mode  of  publication. 

LIVINGSTON,  ALA.,  July,  1854. 


CONTENTS 


THOMAS  JEFFERSON  AND  ALEXANDER  HAMILTON. 

CHAPTER  I. 

The  American  Bevolution— Its  General  Character— Its  Leaders,    .          .          .IT 

CHAPTER   II. 

Thomas  Jefferson— His  Birth— His  Education— Studies  Law— Hears  Patrick  Henry 
— Henry's  Eloquence — Its  Influence  on  Jefferson — Elected  to  the  Legislature  of 
Virginia— Sent  to  the  Continental  Congress— Writes  the  Declaration  of  Inde- 
pendence, . '  "'  ,  .  .•,.,*,.«.  '-•  •  •  •  •  •  "* 

CHAPTER   III. 

Alexander  Hamilton— His  Birth  and  Education— Sent  to  Columbia  College,  New 
York— His  First  Public  Speech,  in  1774— A  Distinguished  Writer  and  Orator  at 
Seventeen— Elected  Captain  of  Artillery— Appointed  Aid  to  Washington  at 
Twenty — His  Military  Services — Washington's  Estimate  of  them — Advocates  a 
National  Government  in  1T81 — A  Lawyer — A  Leader  in  the  Continental  Congress 
—Writes  "  Publius"— The  Constitution  Adopted,  '  .  *.  .  .28 

CHAPTER   IV. 

Jefferson  in  the  Legislature  of  Virginia— In  1779,  Governor  of  Virginia— In  1788  in 
Congress— Minister  to  France  in  1785— In  1789,  Returns  Home— Washington 
Organizes  his  Cabinet— Jefferson,  Secretary  of  State— Hamilton,  Secretary  of  the 
Treasury— Their  Official  Conduct— Their  Personal  Relations— Their  Talents  and 
Characters— Their  Jealousies  and  Collisions— Hamilton's  Financial  System,  85 


12  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER   V. 

The  French  Revolution— Jefferson's  and  Hamilton's  opposite  feelings  towards  France 
—The  French  difficulty— Peace  with  France,  .  .  .  .  .44 

CHAPTER   VI. 

Jefferson  and  Hamilton  retire  from  the  Cabinet— Their  Cabinet  Controversies- 
Jefferson's  Anomalous  Position  in  the  Cabinet— The  Head  of  the  Opposition- 
Sustains  Freneau's  Abusive  Paper— Opposition  to  Washington's  Administra- 
tion Considered— Success  of  Washington's  Administration — Jefferson  Returns 
Home — Denounces  the  Administration — John  Adams  elected  President — Jeffer- 
son Vice-President—Hamilton  defends  the  Administration— Jefferson's  Opinion 
of  Hamilton  as  a  Writer— The  Federal  Party—John  Adams— His  Conduct  to- 
wards France—  The  Alien  and  Sedition  Laws— Jefferson  elected  President,  49 


CHAPTER   VII. 

Jefferson  as  a  Party  Tactician— As  President— His  Inaugural  Address— His  Concilia- 
tory Policy — Acquisition  of  Louisiana — Strict  Construction — The  Embargo  and 
Non-Intercourse  Acts— Our  Relations  with  England— Decline  of  the  Federal  party 
—Jefferson's  Policy,  .  -j  '•>'••  •.'•'••  .  .  .  .61 

CHAPTER   VIII. 

Hamilton  as  a  Lawyer — His  Death — Personal  Traits,  &c.,   .          .          .          .68 

CHAPTER   IX. 

The  Republican  and  Federal  Parties— Characteristics  of  each— Jefferson's  Democracy 
—Hamilton's  Conservatism— Errors  of  both,  ,  .  .  .  .71 

CHAPTER   X. 

Jefferson  as  a  Statesman— Individual  Freedom— State-Rights— The  "  General  Wel- 
fare "  Clause— Consolidation— Personal  Freedom— Liberty— Free  Popular  Gov- 
ernment—State-Rights  Doctrines— Their  Influence,  .  .  .  .79 

CHAPTER   XI. 

Jefferson's  Political  Speculations— Their  Influence— His  Death— His  Character— His 
Letters— His  Published  Correspondence— His  Ana— His  Influence  on  the  State 
and  National  Governments,  .  .  ';  ;  .  ..  .*  .88 

CHAPTER   XII. 

Jefferson  as  a  Popular  Leader — His  Inconsistencies — His  Record  of  Private  Con- 
versations—Professor Tucker's  Life  of  Jefferson— His  Conduct  in  Burr's  Trial— 


CONTENTS.  13 

\ 

In  the  Impeachment  of  Judge  Chase— His  Sensibility  to  Slander— His  Opinion  of 
Newspapers, 105 


CHAPTEE    XIIJ. 

Hamilton— His  Position,  Influence,  and  Character,  .          .          .          .120 

CHAPTEE   XIV. 

Hamilton  and  Jefferson  Contrasted— Their  True  Greatness— Conclusion,          .    129 


JOHN  RAITOOLPH  OF  KOAtfOKE. 


CHAPTEE   I. 

Introduction— Garland's  Life  of  Eandolph— John  Eandolph— Public  Opinion  of  him 
—His  Birth,  Family,  Education,  and  Politics, 185 


CHAPTEE   II. 

The  French  Eevolution— Eandolph,  in  early  Youth,  a  Jacobin— Burke's  Pamphlet- 
Its  Influence  on  Eandolph— Points  of  Eesemblance  between  Burke  and  Eandolph 
— Eandolph's  Early  Character— Death  of  his  brother  Eichard  and  of  other  Eelatives 
—His  Physical  Organization,  .  .  .  .  .  .  .148 


OHAPTEE   III. 

Virginia  at  the  date  of  the  Federal  Constitution— Contrast  between  the  New-Eng- 
lander  and  the  Virginian,  .          .          .          .          .          .          .148 


CHAPTEE   IV. 

The  first  Constitution  of  Virginia— Eandolph  opposed  to  equal  Descents  and  Distribu- 
tions—Virginia  cherishes  her  Talent— Her  State  pride  and  jealousy  of  external 
power— Opposition  to  the  Federal  Constitution— Barely  adopted  by  Virginia— 
Eandolph  subsequently  against  it — Strict  Construction — Washington's  Adminis- 
tration—Adams's—Alien and  Sedition  Laws— Calender's  Trial— Opposition  to 
Adams's  Administration— Eesolutions  of  1798— Eeport  of  1799— Madison— His 
Character— Patrick  Henry  joins  the  Federal  Party— His  Character— His  and 
Eandolph's  Speeches  at  Charlotte  Court-House — Henry's  Eloquence — His 
Death,  . 156 


14  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER   V. 

Randolph  in  Congress— His  Political  Creed— State-Rights— Opposes  Adams's  Ad- 
ministration— Election  of  Jefferson— Randolph  and  Hamilton— Excise-  Abolished 
—Policy  of  this— Acquisition  of  Louisiana— Impeachment  of  Judge  Chase— Ran- 
dolph as  a  Party  Leader— His  Unhappiness— Disappointed  Love— His  Friend- 
ships—Death  of  his  Friends,  Thompson  and  Bryan,  ,/,,..  169 


CHAPTER   VI. 

Jefferson's  Second  Term— Our  Foreign  Relations— State  of  Europe— President's  Con- 
duct—Randolph Opposes  the  Administration— Denounced  by  his  Party— Returns 
Home— Illness  and  Unhappiness,  «.-«.*.'  .  ,.  «  .  .182 


CHAPTER   VII. 

Difficulties  with  England— Monroe's  Treaty— The  Affair  of  the  Chesapeake— The 
Embargo— Randolph  opposes  it — Jefferson  against  a  Navy — Gun-Boats—Non- 
Importation  Act— Madison's  Election— Randolph  prefers  Monroe— War  Measures 
—War— Randolph  opposes  it— Clay  and  Calhoun  in  Congress,  .  .197 

CHAPTER   VIII. 

Clay— Calhoun— Contrast  between  Clay  and  Randolph,     .  ,  .          .205 

CHAPTER   IX. 

Randolph's  Speeches  against  the  War— His  Moral  Heroism— Calhoun's— Randolph's 
Feelings  towards  England — Excitement  against  Randolph — Defeated  for  Con- 
gress by  Eppes — Goes  into  Retirement,  •  <• ,  .  .  .  21T 

CHAPTER   X. 

Randolph's  Religious  Sentiments  and  Conduct— Death  of  his  Nephew,  Tudor  Ran- 
dolph—Extracts of  Randolph's  Letters,  .....  .222 

CHAPTER   XI. 

Randolph  for  Vigorous  Prosecution  of  the  War— His  Letter  to  the  New  England 
States— Re-elected  to  Congress— Opposes  the  U.  S.  Bank  and  the  Tariff— His  Ill- 
ness and  Despondency—  Me nroe's  Administration— Randolph  Opposes  it— The 
Missouri  Question— His  Letters  to  Dr.  Dudley— His  Will— Denounces  the  Slavery 
Agitation — Opposes  the  Bankrupt  and  Apportionment  Bills — Visits  Europe — His 
Impressions  of  England— Opposes  the  Greek  and  South  American  Resolutions- 
Opposes  Internal  Improvements— Opinion  of  Chief  Justice  Marshall— Opposes  the 
Tariff  of  1824-Visits  England  and  France,  .....  .  .281 


CONTENTS.  15 


CHAPTER   XII. 

Presidential  Election  of  1824— Election  of  Adams  by  the  House— Randolph  op- 
poses the  Administration— Elected  to  U.  S.  Senate— Proceedings  in  the  Senate  in 
relation  to  the  Panama  Mission— President's  Message  in  reply— Randolph's  Speech 
on  the  Message— His  Expression  "The  Puritan  and  the  Blackleg  "—Duel  with 
Clay— Third  visit  to  Europe— Defeated  for  the  Senate  by  Tyler— Elected  to  the 
House— Opposes  the  Administration  throughout— Advocates  Jackson's  Election- 
Retires  from  Congress— Elected  to  the  Virginia  Convention  to  amend  the 
State  Constitution— Opposes  all  Innovations— Mission  to  Russia— Returns  Home 
—Nullification— The  Proclamation  and  Force  Bill— Randolph  denounces  Jack- 
eon— Sustains  South  Carolina,  ......  243 

CHAPTER   XIII. 

Randolph  as  a  Statesman— The  Leader  of  the  State-Rights  Party— Contrast  be- 
tween his  Policy  and  Clay's— His  Consistent  and  Heroic  Devotion  to  his  Prin- 
ciples,   258 

CHAPTER   XIV. 

Randolph's  Character  and  Death,     .          ...          .          » .-.    -   •          .    266 


ANDREW  JACKSON  AND  HENRY  CLAY. 

CHAPTER  I. 

Party  Strife  from  1835  to  '45— Party  Contests  in  America— Jackson  and  Clay- 
Points  of  Resemblance— A  New  Country— .Jackson— His  Character,  Public  and 
Private— As  a  General— As  a  Party  Leader— Adams's  Election— Clay's  Blun- 
ders,   277 


CHAPTER   II. 

Clay's  Party  Tactics— Adams's  Administration— Jackson's  and  Clay's  Mutual 
Hatred— Charge  against  Clay— Jackson  as  President— Clay  in  the  Senate— The 
"War  of  the  Giants— The  "  Spoils"  Doctrine— The  Proclamation  and  Force  Bill- 
John  Randolph— His  Character— Jackson's  Influence,  .  .  .804 


CHAPTER   III. 

Removal  of  the  Deposits— Jackson's  Critical  Position— His  Iron  Nerve— Removal 
of  Duane— The  Whig  Party— Union  of  the  Purse  and  the  Sword— Difference 
between  the  English  and  American  Governments— Jackson's  Charges  against  th 


16  CONTENTS. 

United  States  Bank—  His  Issue  before  the  People— The  Conduct  of  the  Bank— 
Biddle— His  Slanders— Commercial  Distress— Jackson's  Tact— His  Appeal  to  the 
Farmers— Effect  of  the  Deposits  on  the  State  Banks— Increase  of  Banks  and 
Paper  Money— Error  of  the  Democratic  Party— Jackson's  Triumph— The  Mone- 
tary and  Speculative  Excesses  of  1835-36— The  Specie  Circular— Its  Effects,  827 

CHAPTER   IV. 

Jackson's  Second  Term— Van  Buren  Elected  President— Commercial  Distress- 
Party  Excitement— Harrison's  Election  and  Death— Tyler's  Administration- 
Clay's  Defeat— Jackson's  Death— His  Achievements  and  Character,  .  340 

CHAPTEE   V. 

Clay  in  the  Senate— His  Patriotic  Course— Compromise  of  1850— Analysis  of  Clay's 
Character — His  rank  as  a  Statesman — Compared  with  Calhoun  and  Webster — 
His  Death,  .  .  ".  .  .  .  .  .  .  358 


PARTY  LEADERS. 


THOMAS  JEFFERSON  AND  ALEXANDER  HAMILTON. 


CHAPTER  I. 

The  American  Eevolution— Its  General  Character— Its  Leaders. 

THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION  is  not  only  one  of  the  most  im- 
portant, but  one  of  the  most  interesting  events  in  the  his- 
tory of  the  world.  A  young  people  oppressed  and  perse- 
cuted, rising  to  throw  off  a  foreign  yoke,  and  preferring  all 
extremes  of  danger  and  disaster,  of  hardship  and  of  priva- 
tion, to  a  submission  to  personal  and  political  degradation, 
are  necessarily  objects  of  peculiar  sympathy  and  regard. 
But  the  Colonies  of  Great  Britain  brought  to  their  strug- 
gle an  uncommon  degree  of  this  interest  and  consideration 
TKe  movement  of  the  Colonists  was  the  furthest  possible 
from  a  sudden  outburst  of  popular  passion.  It  had  nothing 


18  JEFFERSON  AND  HAMILTON. 

of  the  temper,  or  purposes,  or  unrestrained  impulses,  or 
wild  excesses  of  a  mob.  It  preserved  throughout  the  war 
the  order,  the  system,  the  conservatism  of  loyalty  to  law 
and  organized  civic  institutions.  It  proposed,  it  is  true,  an 
overthrow  of  government ;  but  it  set  up  another  and  better 
government,  before  it  started  to  put  down  the  old.  It  pro 
posed  armed  and  violent  resistance  to  English  rule  ;  but  it 
resisted  in  the  name  and  by  the  authority  of  public  law  regu- 
larly enacted.  It  was  not  a  paroxysm  of  popular  rage, 
roused  by  sudden  provocation.  Neither  was  it  undertaken 
without  due  preparation  of  the  public  mind,  nor,  as  far  as 
could  be,  of  material  resources,  nor  in  ignorance  of  the  ad- 
vantages rationally  to  be  expected  from  success,  and  of  the 
dangers  and  evils  which  would  certainly  accrue  from  failure. 
The  point  of  violent  resistance  was  reached  as  a  logical  con- 
clusion from  foregone  premises  and  by  slow  stages.  It  was 
attained  only  after  exhausting  all  means  of  peaceable  re- 
dress. It  was  only  reached  after  the  most  elaborate  discus- 
sion and  the  most  deliberate  consideration.  The  questions 
involved  were  all  public  questions.  Private  griefs  and  per- 
sonal considerations  were,  in  a  singular  degree,  wanting  in 
the  canvass  of  motives  and  reasons  for  opposition  to  the 
crown. 

The  whole  history  of  the  struggle  was  heroic.  What- 
ever elements  make  up  true  glory,  national  and  personal, 
were  all  found  in  that  long  travail  for  Independence.  For- 
tunately, a  pure,  elevated  and  singularly  brave  generation 
of  men  led  the  movement ;  and  every  quality  that  can  make 


TIMES    OF   THE   REVOLUTION.  19 

or  develope  heroism  was  stimulated  and  forced  into  exercise. 
The  affairs  of  a  government,  now  just  organizing  and  calling 
for  the  most  varied  skill  of  the  politician  to  meet  crises, 
and    unexpected    exigencies    and   new   relations,   required 
statesmanlike  abilities,  both  legislative  and  executive ;  while, 
in  the  field,  every  martial  quality  was  of  course  demanded 
and  developed.     Success,  too,  was  not  a  sudden  thing.     It 
was  not  a  mere  brilliant  exploit,  turning  the  heads  of  the 
victors.     It  was  long  in  doubt.     Nay,  for  many  long  cam- 
paigns it  seemed  improbable,  at  times  almost  hopeless.    Nor 
were  there  wanting  difficulties  of  all  sorts,  in  the  cabinet 
and  in  the  field,  and  even  in  the  camp,  to  darken  the  pros- 
pects and  to  chill  the  hearts  of  the  patriots.     Great  and 
unexpected  reverses ;  sad  defections,  the  weak  vessels,  once 
trusted  brothers,  falling  off;  miserable  rivalries,  even  in  the 
face  of  danger ;  bickerings,  envy,  insubordination  in  camp ; 
disease,  want  of  munitions  of  war,  and  of  food,  clothing, 
and  shelter ;  the  hope  long  and  still  deferred  ;  the  flag  almost 
fainting  in  the  breeze ;  the  country,  deserted  in  all  its  busy 
avocations,  under  a  thick  cloud  of  gloomy  and  of  dreary  si- 
lence ;  the  forays  of  domestic  enemies ;  the  dwellings  of  the 
patriots  blazing  at  midnight ;  the  path  ambushed  by  day ; 
the  dark  deeds,  too  horrible  for  description,  of  the  savages 
on  the  frontiers ;  the  church  closed  or  become  the  rendez- 
vous   of   revelling   soldiers ;    the  schoolhouse  on  the   hill 
deserted  and  the  windows  broken  in ;  the  sudden  incursion 
of  hostile  cavalry  into  peaceable  neighborhoods,  scattering 
the  women  and  children  from  the  houses  the  marauders  pil- 


20  JEFFERSON   AND    HAMILTON. 

laged ;  the  plough  stopped  in  the  furrow,  and  the  dilapida- 
ted farm  overgrown  with  briers  ;  the  towns  and  villages  de- 
populated and  in  ruins ;  and  the  streets  of  cities  deserted, 
or  only  exhibiting,  here  and  there,  under  some  creaking 
sign,  a  little  knot  of  busy  idlers  discussing  the  last  news 
from  headquarters.  This  condition  of  their  country,  so 
bleak  and  desolate,  was  trying  enough  to  the  fortitude  and 
constancy  of  the  patriots.  It  is  the  highest  of  all  human 
praise  to  say,  that  their  constancy  and  fortitude  were  equal 
to  such  a  trial.  Indeed,  we  think  these  masculine  virtues, 
indicating,  or  making  the  strength  and  greatness  of  the  soul, 
more  truly  glorious  than  the  noisy  and  brilliant  courage  and 
daring,  which  charge  over  batteries,  or  lead  forlorn  hopes 
up  bastions.  It  may  well  be  doubted  whether  the  records 
of  ancient  or  modern  times  give  us,  even  in  the  history  of 
Bruce  or  Frederick,  any  authentic  example  of  a  constancy 
more  noble  and  triumphant,  than  that  exhibited  by  Wash- 
ington and  his  compatriots  during  the  protracted  war  of  the 
Revolution. 

But  the  popular  element  of  interest  to  a  struggle,  its 
triumph,  was  to  succeed  all  this  privation  and  trial.  It 
came,  at  last,  like  gleams  of  grateful  sunshine  after  a  long 
and  disastrous  storm.  And  such  a  triumph  !  A  triumph, 
in  which  the  personal  renown  of  the  victors  fades,  in  the 
splendor  of  a  benefaction  to  their  country  and  to  their  race, 
shining  down,  like  a  sun,  on  countless  generations  of  man- 
kind. 

And  scarcely  less  interesting,  and  not  less  instructive, 


MEN    OP    THE    REVOLUTION.  21 

was  that  period  of  our  public  history,  in  which,  after  peace 
had  come  again,  were  laid  the  foundations  of  empire,  and 
was  reared  up,  on  the  ruins  of  old  systems,  that  structure 
of  civil  government,  which,  by  the  blessing  of  God,  se- 
cured, and  which  alone,  probably,  could  have  secured,  the 
liberties  and  happiness,  without  which  the  preceding  strug- 
gle had  been  a  curse. 

It  was"  a  happy  characteristic  of  the  times  adverted  to, 
that  the  country  was  under  the  direction  of  its  virtue  and 
its  talent,  and  that  of  these  so  much  existed.  The  Revolu- 
tionary era  was  emphatically  the  intellectual  and  patriotic 
period  of  the  confederacy ;  not  intellectual,  perhaps,  so  far 
as  the  masses  were  concerned,  but  pre-eminent  for  the  virtue 
and  intellect  of  the  men  who  were  called  to  the  higher  posts 
of  the  public  service. 

We  go  back  to  those  early  times  and  revive  our  patriot- 
ism at  the  fountain-heads  of  the  public  liberty.  We  feel  bet- 
ter nerved  to  the  performance  of  our  duties,  by  our  intimacy 
with  those  who  accomplished  the  great  deeds  of  the  Revo- 
lution. We  find  among  them,  and  especially  in  the  chief 
of  them,  what  is  so  important  to  a  people,  an  ideal  of  pa- 
triotism and  excellence.  Not  a  lesson,  merely,  nor  a  teacher, 
but  a  warm  and  living  example,  an  impersonation  of  every 
moral,  political,  social  and  heroic  virtue.  The  very  exist- 
ence of  such  a  man,  the  mere  fact  that  he  lived,  is  a  treas- 
ure of  inestimable  value  to  our  people.  It  may  keep  them 
from  falling,  or,  if,  unhappily,  they  should  fall,  it  furnishes 
the  means  of  their  recovery. 


22  JEFFERSON   AND   HAMILTON. 

It  is  almost  an  amiable  weakness  that  we  are  prone  to 
look  back  upon  the  men  of  those  times  with  superstitious 
reverence.  We  exempt  them,  in  our  partial  veneration, 
from  the  frailties  and  imperfections  of  humanity.  We  en- 
dow them  with  fabulous  powers.  We  endue  them  with  a 
superhuman  virtue.  We  forget  that  they  were  but  men, 
and,  too  frequently,  men  disfigured  by  petty  weaknesses,  and 
a  few  of  them  stained  by  crime.  The  same  passions  that 
riot  now  in  the  vulgar  breast,  in  some  degree  inflamed  theirs. 
The  same  bitter  rivalries,  the  same  cabals,  cliques,  and  par- 
tisan schemes  and  selfish  intrigues,  that  now  degrade  ambi- 
tion into  a  huckstering  squabble  for  office,  were  then  known. 
The  same  railing  animosities  and  deadly  feuds ;  the  same 
ungenerous  decrial  and  uncharitable  imputations  ;  the  same 
tergiversations  and  lust  of  place  and  money,  that  now  degrade 
politics  into  the  dirtiest  of  trades,  then  had  sway,  though, 
doubtless,  in  far  fewer  instances  than  in  this  age  of  their 
full-blown  development. 

And  yet,  who  can  go  back  to  the  Revolutionary  era,  and 
fail  to  see,  in  the  forms  of  the  men  who  made  that  age  il- 
lustrious, types  of  a  noble  and  chivalrous  manhood,  such  as 
he  looks  for  in  vain  in  all  past  history  ?  What  familiar 
figures  and  faces  rise  up  to  the  memory,  as  if  exhumed  from 
the  buried  past,  in  all  the  fire  and  perfectness  of  their  mid- 
day prime  !  The  able  and  comprehensive  Greene,  most  like 
his  commander ;  the  rough  and  dashing  Morgan,  the  Lannes 
of  the  war ;  the  brilliant  and  enterprising  Harry  Lee ;  the 
adventurous  and  brave  Col.  Washington ;  the  calm  but  en- 


REVOLUTIONARY    LEADERS.  23 

thusiastic  Lafayette,  lifting  eyes  of  reverent  admiration  to 
his  chief;  the  bold  and  frank  Henry  Knox,  loved  of  "Wash- 
ington ;  the  accomplished  and  knightly  Charles  Cotesworth 
Pinkney ;  the  hot  and  rash  "  Mad  Anthony  "  Wayne,  dash- 
ing like  a  tempest  on  the  enemy ;  the  elegant  and  courtly 
Edmund  Randolph ;  the  philosophic  Franklin,  his  quiet 
face  beaming  with  benignity  and  thought ;  the  Adamses,  the 
Otises,  the  Quincys,  glowing  with  zeal  and  eloquence  ; 
Jefferson  and  Hamilton ;  and  he — Virginia's  greatest  ora- 
tor, now,  at  the  organization  of  the  new  government,  full  of 
years  as  he  was  full  of  honors ;  near  the  close  of  a  life  now 
rewarded  by  the  opening  glories,  which  his  prophetic  elo- 
quence had  unveiled  to  his  country  :  w.hile  the  CENTRAL 
FIGURE  of  this  august  group  towers  above  them  all,  not  less 
in  the  regal  majesty  of  his  form,  than  in  the  sublime  purity 
of  his  character,  and  in  the  sound  judgment  and  wise  mod- 
eration of  his  ripe  statesmanship. 

In  this  group  were  two  names,  not  the  oldest,  nor,  at 
the  close  of  the  Revolution,  the  most  distinguished,  of  the 
bright  array  we  have  glanced  at,  but  who  were  destined  to 
impress  upon  their  country  a  more  lasting  and  important 
influence  than  any  other  men,  with  one  or  two  exceptions, 
who  have,  to  this  day,  appeared  on  the  stage  of  action. 
These  were  the  characters  whose  names  head  this  paper. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Thomas  Jefferson— His  Birth— His  Education— Studies  Law— Hears  Patrick  Henry 
—Henry's  Eloquence— Its  Influence  on  Jefferson— Elected  to  the  Legislature  of 
Virginia— Sent  to  the  Continental  Congress— Writes  the  Declaration  of  Inde 
pendenoe. 

THOMAS  JEFFERSON  was  born  on  the  2d  day  of  April,  1703, 
(0.  S.,)  at  Shadwell,  in  the  county  of  Albemarle,  in  the 
State  of  Virginia.  If,  as  some  suppose,  the  characters  of 
men  are  modified  by  the  physical  scenery  around  them  as 
they  grow  up  to  manhood,  Jefferson  was  fortunate  in  the 
home  of  his  youth ;  for  it  is  difficult  to  conceive  of  a  land- 
scape more  beautiful  and  romantic  than  that  which  greeted 
his  youthful  vision.  A  lovely  valley,  smiling  at  the  feet  of 
the  high  lands  swelling  above  it ;  luxuriant  plains,  shad- 
owed by  the  mountains  towering,  peak  after  peak,  all  around ; 
the  river  dashing  between  the  hills  and  bursting,  with  exult- 
ing song,  into  the  glittering  sunshine  ;  the  Blue  Ridge 
with  its  soft  haze  marking  the  horizon  with  a  long  indented 
line  of  azure,  until  the  eye  loses  its  form  far  away  in  the 
dim  distance ;  picturesque  farmsteads  crowning  the  hills, 


JEFFERSON    HEARS    PATRICK    HENRY.  25 

and  green  meadows  nestling  in  their  laps,  make  up  a  scene 
of  almost  unequalled  beauty  and  grandeur.  Such  a  home 
was  fit  to  inspire  a  spirit  of  Liberty,  and  to  nurse  and  nur- 
ture into  strength  and  maturity  her  favorite  champion. 

In  his  seventeenth  year,  Jefferson  was  sent  to  William 
and  Mary  College,  at  that  time,  and  for  many  years  sub- 
sequently, the  most  approved  institution  of  letters  in  the 
State  5  in  whose  venerable  halls  so  many  of  the  most  eminent 
sons  of  that  honored  commonwealth  were  furnished  forth 
with  the  first  preparation  for  the  distinguished  parts  they 
played  in  later  life. 

It  was  in  his  twenty- third  year,  while  a  student  of  law  at 
Williamsburg,  under  the  pure  and  learned  Wythe,  that 
Jefferson  heard  Patrick  Henry,  in  the  House  of  Burgesses, 
declaiming  against  the  Stamp  Act.  For  a  young  man  to 
hear  Henry  and  to  adopt  his  cause,  were  the  same  thing ; 
for  the  great  orator  spoke  under  the  double  inspiration  of 
Eloquence  and  Liberty.  Henry  was  in  the  prime  of  his 
powers,  and  this  speech  was  one  of  the  greatest  of  his  life. 
The  scene  then  enacted  was  worthy  of  the  historic  pencil  ; 
the  orator,  kindling  with  the  fire  of  Ezekiel,  and  pouring 
forth  from  his  impassioned  soul,  aflame  with  liberty,  the 
thoughts  so  long  imprisoned  and  burning  for  utterance  in 
the  solitude  of  the  forest ;  quelling  opposition ;  cowing  the 
bold  by  greater  boldness ;  inspiriting  the  timid ;  and  plead- 
ing the  cause  of  his  countrymen  with  a  rapt  enthusiasm  akin 
to  inspiration  ;  his  voice  swelling  out  its  thunder  tones,  his 
form  dilated,  and  his  countenance  transfigured. 
2 


26  JEFFERSON    AND    HAMILTON. 

And  then,  the  young  auditor  in  the  lobby,  strangely 
thrilling  and  carried  away  captive  by  the  new  influence  throb- 
bing in  his  heart  and  firing  his  brain ;  that  stranger,  a  rude, 
unfashioned  youth  then,  but  predestinated  to  be,  aod  re- 
ceiving then  the  impulse  which  was  to  make  him,  one  of  the 
most  effective  of  all  the  champions  of  freedom  in  the  world. 
It  is  barely  too  extravagant  a  figure  to  say,  that  the  neophyte 
votary  was  thus  baptized  to  Liberty  in  the  fire  and  the  flood 
of  Henry's  eloquence. 

We  pass  rapidly  over  other  passages  in  the  life  of  Jeffer- 
son; his  election,  in  1769,  by  the  people  of  his  county  to  a 
seat  in  the  Legislature,  which  he  held  to  the  time  of  the 
Revolution,  and  signalized  by  his  unsuccessful  proposition 
for  the  emancipation  of  the  slaves  of  the  State ;  his  appoint- 
ment, as  member  of  the  Correspondence  Committee,  estab- 
lished by  the  colonial  legislature  ;  his  address  to  the  king, 
in  1774,  so  commended  by  Burke,  vindicating  the  claims  of 
the  colonies;  and  his  election,  in  1775,  as  one  of  the  dele- 
gates of  Virginia  to  the  Continental  Congress. 

And  now  discontent  had  grown  into  agitation,  and  agita- 
tion had  passed  to  the  verge  of  Revolution.  The  colonies 
were  ripe  for  open  revolt ;  indeed,  the  field  had  been  taken 
in  Massachusetts,  and  the  first  blood  of  the  war  shed. 
Mighty  events  were  on  the  wing.  The  country  stood  still 
and  silent,  as  men  stand  on  the  eve  of  a  great  explosion. 
The  crisis  had  come  when  the  work  of  a  moment  controls  the 
events  of  centuries,  and  tells  the  destiny  of  millions.  The 
crisis  was  boldly  met,  and  the  venture  boldly  taken*  It  fell 


DECLARATION    OF    INDEPENDENCE.  27 

to  the  task  of  Jefferson  to  announce  the  decision  to  the 
world,  and  to  appeal  to  that  world  in  vindication  of  its 
justice.  No  hope  was  left  of  conciliation,  and  no  chance  of 
retreat;  and  THE  DECLARATION  rang  out  its  burning  words 
of  defiance  and  resolute  resistance.  The  country  answered 
back  with  shouts  and  huzzas. 


CHAPTER    III. 

Alexander  Hamilton— His  Birth  and  Education— Sent  to  Columbia  College,  New 
York— His  First  Public  Speech,  in  1774— A  Distinguished  Writer  and  Orator  at 
Seventeen— Elected  Captain  of  Artillery— Appointed  Aid  to  Washington  at 
Twenty— His  Military  Services— Washington's  Estimate  of  them— Advocates  a 
National  Government  in  1781 — A  Lawyer — A  Leader  in  the  Continental  Congress 
—Writes  "  Publius"— The  Constitution  Adopted. 

A  YOUNG  man,  just  entering  his  nineteenth  year,  a  student  in 
one  of  the  colleges  of  New  York,  heard  the  summons  to 
arms,  for  which  he  had  long  been  impatiently  waiting,  and 
repaired  at  once  to  the  standard  of  his  country.  He  was 
born  in  the  little  isle  of  Nevis,  one  of  the  leeward  West 
India  group,  in  the  year  1757.  From  early  youth,  he  had 
given  promise  of  great  eminence.  He  had  published,  in  his 
fifteenth  year,  an  account  of  the  desolation,  by  a  hurricane, 
of  some  of  the  West  India  islands  ;  and  the  paper  contain- 
ing it  falling  into  the  hands  of  some  gentlemen  of  St.  Croix, 
they  were  so  struck  with  its  ability  and  eloquence,  that  they 
sought  out  the  author.  They  found  him,  a  clerk  in  the 
counting-room  of  one  Nicholas  Cruger.  Thinking  that 


A    YOUNG    WRITER    AND    ORATOR.  29 

such  talents  should  not  be  unimproved,  with  the  noblest  and 
wisest  generosity  they  proffered  to  send  him,  and  prevailed 
upon  him  to  go,  to  the  city  of  New  York,  to  be  educated. 
He  was,  accordingly,  entered  a  student  of  Columbia  College. 
He  rose  rapidly  from  class  to  class,  mastering  whatever 
branch  of  study  he  essayed,  without  difficulty.  He  joined 
the  Debating  Society  of  the  college,  and,  from  the  start,  as 
by  a  natural  gift  of  oratory,  he  bore  the  palm  of  eloquence 
from  all  his  young  associates. 

At  the  age  of  seventeen,  he  wrote  for  the  press  essays 
upon  the  political  topics  then  agitating  the  country,  which 
were  distinguished  by  graces  of  style  and  maturity  of 
thought ;  no  mere  sophomore  affairs,  with  gleams  of  genius 
here  and  there  shining  through  the  pruriency  and  flashy 
wordiness  of  boyish  composition,  but  strong-sensed,  well- 
reasoned  articles,  in  which  the  fancy  and  the  imagination 
only  set  off,  illustrated  and  intensified  the  close  and  vigor- 
ous argument. 

On  the  sixth  of  July,  1774,  the  people  of  New  York 
met  in  the  open  fields.  A  vast  concourse  of  men,  under  the 
excitement  of  the  events  that  were  driving  forward  the 
Revolution,  met  to  hear  discussed  the  great  questions  of  the 
day.  New  interest  had  been  imparted  to  the  proceedings, 
by  one  of  those  acts  of  individual  oppression  (the  imprison- 
ment of  McDougal),which,  more  than  abstract  principles,  exert 
a  deep  and  active  influence  on  the  public  mind.  The  meet- 
ing, after  a  protracted  and  interesting  session,  lasting  until 
nearly  sunset,  was  about  to  disperse,  when  a  youth,  pale,  of 


30  JEFFERSON    AND   HAMILTON. 

slight,  but  manly  form,  high  and  broad  forehead,  and  eagle 
eyes,  rose  to  address  the  people.  Curiosity,  as  much  as  in- 
terest in  the  subject,  turned  all  eyes  upon  the  youthful 
speaker.  But  curiosity  soon  gave  place  to  other  sentiments 
and  emotions;  for  the  orator,  after  the  first  blush  of  em- 
barrassment had  faded  from  his  cheek,  launched  out  boldly 
into  his  argument ;  and  eloquent  appeal  and  strong  reason- 
ings, burning  invective  and  prophetic  augury  came  up  as  he 
called  them.  The  duty  of  resistance,  and  the  majesty  and 
sacredness  of  the  popular  cause,  were  so  enforced  and  vindi- 
cated, that,  when  the  speaker  closed  a  strain  of  eloquence 
which  enchained  attention  in  breathless  silence,  he  was 
greeted  with  long  shouts  of  approval  and  applause. 

He  sat  down,  at  seventeen  years,  a  distinguished  man. 
We  say  a  distinguished  man,  because  in  self-appreciation, 
in  knowledge,  in  intellect,  in  matured  force  and  steadiness  of 
character,  in  every  thing,  save  a  complete  physical  develop- 
ment, he  was  a  man,  fashioned,  furnished  and  prepared,  for 
a  full  discharge,  even  in  difficult  and  trying  times,  of  all  the 
duties  which  devolve  on  men. 

A  company  of  artillery  was  raised,  and  now,  at  nine- 
teen years  of  age,  Hamilton  was  chosen  to  command  it.  A 
year  passed,  and  the  commander-in-chief,  in  his  retreat 
through  the  Jerseys,  was  struck  by  the  courage  and  skill  of 
the  young  captain  in  his  passage  of  the  Raritan.  He  sent 
for  him  and  invited  him  to  his  tent.  The  interview  resulted 
in  his  becoming  "  the  principal  and  most  confidential  aid"  of 
Washington,  with  the  rank  of  lieutenant-colonel.  And, 


HAMILTON    AS    AID    TO    WASHINGTON.  31 

sharing  the  tent,  the  counsels,  and  the  confidence  of  his 
chief,  the  youth  remained  with  him  during  the  long  war ; 
assisted  in  planning  the  campaigns  North  and  South ;  was 
with  him  in  victory  and  in  defeat ;  was  by  his  side  at  Brandy- 
wine  and  German  town;  was  near  him  when  the  flag  trailed  in 
the  retreat  from  New  York ;  when  it  flew  in  triumph  at  Tren- 
ton ;  when  it  drooped  over  the  snows  of  Valley  Forge;  when 
it  rose  again  over  the  hot  field  of  Monmouth ;  then  follow- 
ing the  track  of  Cornwallis  through  the  South,  and  closing 
the  lines  around  him,  until,  encircled  at  Yorktown,  without 
hope  of  escape  by  land  or  sea,  the  aid  led  "  with  conspicuous 
gallantry,"  the  last  charge  upon  the  British  redoubts — 
the  crowning  service  of  the  war — and  saw  seven  thousand 
troops  march  out  as  prisoners,  and  stack  their  arms  before 
him. 

And,  soon  afterwards,  the  war  ended,  after  a  series  of 
campaigns,  of  which  it  may  be  said,  that  the  very  reverses 
were  prominent  accessories  of  its  true  glory. 

How  much  the  services  of  Hamilton  were  of  benefit  to 
the  commander,  cannot  be  rightly  comprehended  except 
by  the  testimony  of  the  chief;  since  the  aid,  having  no  in- 
dependent command  or  office,  is  sunk  in  the  General.  But 
we  may  readily  conceive  that  Washington,  whose  genius 
was  even  more  eminently  appreciative  than  suggestive,  de- 
rived no  small  assistance  from  the  fertile  resources,  the  bold 
conceptions,  and  the  quick  eye  of  his  gifted  aid.  And  this 
tribute  to  Hamilton's  merits  is  enforced  by  the  appointment 
Washington  made  him,  fourteen  years  afterwards,  to  the 


32  JEFFERSON    AND    HAMILTON 

office  of  Senior  Major-General,  over  older  officers,  to  serve 
in  the  French  war.  In  September,  1778,  Washington  wrote 
to  President  Adams  :  "I  have  no  hesitation  in  saying  that, 
if  the  public  is  to  be  deprived  of  the  services  of  Col.  Ham- 
ilton in  the  military  line,  the  post  he  was  destined  to  fill 
will  not  be  easily  supplied." 

In  1779,  Hamilton  proposed  a  mode  of  extricating  the 
country  from  its  embarrassments,  by  suggestions  which  pre- 
pared the  way  for  the  United  States  Bank.  In  1780,  he  pro- 
posed, in  his  celebrated  letter  to  Duane,  the  establishment  of  a 
constitution  for  a  national  government ;  and  is  thus  entitled 
to  the  high  merit  of  being  among  the  first  to  see,  and  the 
ablest  to  vindicate,  the  wisdom  of  that  measure. 

Retiring,  in  1781,  from  the  active  duties  of  his  office  of 
aid  to  Washington,  and  relinquishing  its  emoluments, 
though  he  retained  the  commission,  to  be  in  readiness  for 
future  service,  he  commenced  the  study  of  the  law.  He 
came  to  the  bar  in  1782,  and  rapidly  took  position.  In 
the  same  year  he  was  elected  to  the  Continental  Congress, 
and  rose  at  once  to  a  first  place  in  that  body.  The  reports 
he  drew,  as  chairman  of  the  most  important  committees,  am- 
ply vindicate  his  claim  to  this  consideration.  He  resumed 
the  practice  in  the  spring,  and  won  for  himself  such  distinc- 
tion, at  a  bar  as  eminent  as  any  in  the  world,  that  Chancel- 
lor Kent,  in  discussing  some  intricate  question  of  law,  goes 
out  of  his  way  to  acknowledge  the  light  he  had  received  on 
the  question  from  an  argument  of  Alexander  Hamilton, 
which  he  was  once  so  fortunate  as  to  hear.  In  1786,  a 


HAMILTON    AS    A    POLITICAL    WRITER.  33 

member  of  the  New  York  Assembly;  in  1787,  a  delegate  to 
the  Convention  which  framed  the  Federal  Constitution,  of 
which  body  he  was  one  of  the  ablest  members ; — is  it  too 
much  to  say  the  very  ablest  ?  An  eminent  French  minister 
says  of  him  in  this  connection  :  "  There  is  not  an  element 
of  order,  strength,  or  durability  in  the  Constitution,  which  he 
did  not  powerfully  contribute  to  introduce  into  the  scheme, 
and  cause  to  be  adopted." 

The  essays  published  by  him  and  Jay  and  Madison, 
about  this  time,  under  the  signature  of  Publius,  subse- 
quently collected  in  "  The  Federalist"  constitute  a  political 
'  text-book  for  the  American  student,  and,  perhaps,  have  not 
been  exceeded  in  ability,  by  any  similar  papers  ever  written. 
Three  fourths  of  these  papers  are  from  the  pen  of  Hamilton  ; 
and  we  think  it  must  be  conceded  that  the  proportion  of 
ability  in  these  rare  contributions  is  as  great  in  his  favor  as 
the  number.  When  we  reflect  that  these  papers  were  writ- 
ten in  haste,  and  at  arbitrary  intervals,  amidst  the  distrac- 
tions and  cares  of  political  and  professional  engagements ; 
and  by  a  man  who  had  not  yet  attained  his  thirtieth  year, 
they  must  be  regarded  as  curiosities  of  political  literature. 

This  task  despatched,  Hamilton  was  called  into  the  Con- 
vention of  New  York,  met  to  decide  upon  the  ratification  of 
the  new  Constitution  ;  and  there,  against  various  and  power- 
ful opposition,  he  fought  the  great  work,  inch  by  inch, 
through  that  assembly,  as  Madison  and  Marshall  had  done, 
under  the  fire  of  a  scarcely  more  formidable  antagonism, 
through  the  Convention  of  Virginia. 

2* 


34  JEFFERSON    AND    HAMILTON 

We  had,  at  length,  a  government  worthy  of  our  people. 
That  shackling  thing  patched  up  by  the  old  Articles  of  Con- 
federation, and  which  needed  the  iron  pressure  of  a  foreign 
war  to  hold  its  rickety  staves  together,  was  superseded  by 
a  national  government,  with  an  established  constitution,  and 
ample  powers  to  enforce  its  own  laws,  and  to  carry  into 
effect  its  wisely-limited  but  all-important  objects.  The 
next  thing  was  to  put  it  in  motion.  It  started  under  a 
cloud.  It  was  a  sort  of  compromise,  with  which  no  one  was 
entirely  pleased.  Some  bitterly  opposed  it.  Some  were 
neutral,  not  seeing  their  way  clearly  to  oppose  or  support 
it.  The  majority  not  much  more  than  tolerated  it,  or  took 
it  as  the  best  they  could  do  under  the  circumstances.  It 
was  too  strong  for  some ;  too  weak  for  others.  It  had 
awful  squints.  It  squinted  towards  Monarchy ;  it  squinted 
towards  Aristocracy;  and  it  squinted  towards  Anarchy. 
Many  weather-wise  politicians  shook  their  heads  ominously 
and  muttered  fears  and  distrust.  Almost  every  man  could 
have  made  a  better  government.  The  politicians,  who  had 
a  sharp  eye  to  the  future  (for  that  sort  of  people  are  not  of 
recent  growth),  stood  aloof,  prepared  to  take  advantage  of  any 
result  that  might  turn  up,  after  the  new  experiment  had 
been  tried. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Jefferson  In  the  Legislature  of  Virginia— In  1779,  Governor  of  Virginia— In  1783  in 
Congress— Minister  to  France  in  1785— In  1789,  Eeturns  Home— "Washington 
Organizes  his  Cabinet— Jefferson,  Secretary  of  State— Hamilton,  Secretary  of  the 
Treasury— Their  Official  Conduct— Their  Personal  Eel ations— Their  Talents  and 
Characters— Their  Jealousies  and  Collisions— Hamilton's  Financial  System. 

WE  left  Jefferson  reading  the  Declaration  of  Indepen- 
dence. From  that  time  to  the  inauguration  of  the  new 
constitution,  his  life  was  a  busy  one.  Returning  from  Con- 
gress, we  find  him  in  the  Legislature  of  Virginia,  engaged 
in  the  laborious  drudgery  of  revising  her  laws ;  proposing 
and  pushing  through  new  ones  of  great  importance,  and 
marking  large  strides  of  progress  :  the  Law  prohibiting  the 
importation  of  slaves ;  the  statute  for  Religious  freedom ; 
the  laws  abolishing  primogeniture  and  regulating  descents ; 
and,  what  to  the  shame  of  the  noble  old  mother  of  States 
and  statemen,  has  never  yet  been  effectually  carried  out,  a 
law  creating  an  efficient  system  of  general  education.  In 
1779,  elected  Governor  for  two  years.  In  1781,  writing  his 
Notes  on  Virginia.  In  1783,  in  Congress  again,  and,  as 
chairman  of  the  committee,  reporting  in  favor  of  the  Treaty 


36  JEFFERSON    AND    HAMILTON. 

of  Peace  with  Great  Britain.  In  1784,  busy  with  the  mint 
and  coinage  questions,  and  the  author  of  the  present  system 
of  decimal  coins.  Appointed  in  1784,  a  Minister  Plenipoten- 
tiary to  negotiate  treaties  with  foreign  nations,  he  as- 
sisted in  the  treaties  with  Prussia  and  Morocco,  and,  in 
the  next  year,  succeeded  Franklin  as  Minister  to  France, 
and  continued  as  such  until  1789,  when  he  returned  home. 

Washington  was  called,  by  the  almost  unanimous  voice 
of  the  country,  to  the  helm  of  affairs.  He  would  gladly  have 
declined  the  service.  Besides  that  he  was  one  of  the  very 
few  men  to  whom  the  exercise  of  power  brought  no  pleasure, 
and  to  whose  thorough-grained  conscientiousness  office  was 
a  responsible  trust,  over  which  a  solemn  sense  of  duty  sat, 
controlling  himself,  as  it  controlled  all  things  else ;  besides 
this,  repose  was  grateful  to  him  after  the  long  and  wearing 
duties  which  had  brought  premature  old  age  upon  his  limbs. 
Moreover,  he  was  in  the  evening  of  life,  and  that  life  had 
been  a  season  of  almost  uninterrupted  public  labor  away 
from  home.  He  had  won  fame  enough  to  satisfy  any  man's 
ambition,  and  he  was  naturally  less  ambitious  than  most 
men.  His  renown,  filling  his  own  country  and  overflowing 
its  bounds,  had  spread  all  over  the  world.  He  had  har- 
vested and  garnered  in  his  glory.  The  future  was  safe 
from  all  hands  but  his  own.  He  had  already  made  a  name, 
the  first  probably  on  the  roll  of  fame  ;  a  name,  which  must 
descend,  as  the  best  type  of  a  noble  manhood,  down  the  line 
of  humanity,  even  to  its  last  generation.  He  was  one  of 
the  few  founders  of  empire,  who  would  have  been  gratefully 


WASHINGTON'S  CABINET.  37 

remembered,  long  after  the  country  he  established  had  gone 
down.  He  was  above  all  opposition,  all  rivalry,  all 
enmity  : — these  could  grovel  now  only  far  below  the  heights 
on  which  he  stood.  The  cabals  and  intrigues,  which  had 
dogged  him  in  the  camp,  had  slunk  away  in  affright  at  the 
loud  acclaim  of  his  country  and  the  world.  That  world, 
for  once,  was  unanimous  in  a  patriot's  praise ;  and  even 
kings  and  courtiers  vied  in  eulogies  to  the  American  hero. 
While  yet  alive,  he  was  canonized  as  the  first  patriot, 
philanthropist,  and  hero  of  all  the  world.  He  might  well  be 
chary  of  such  a  fame.  It  was  natural,  that,  at  his  age, 
when  miscarriage  could  not  be  repaired,  he  should  feel  in- 
disposed to  commit  his  renown  to  a  new  test,  to  the  re- 
sult of  an  experiment,  about  which  speculation  was  various  ; 
to  embark  in  duties  untried  before,  when  it  was  impossible 
to  make  new  friends  and  unlikely  to  retain  all  the  old  ones  ; 
and  to  raise  up  party  and  opposition,  when  he  so  much 
desired  repose.  But  duty  prevailed,  as  with  him  it  had 
ever  done.  And  another  chapter  was  to  be  written  in  his 
country's  history,  as  honorable  to  it  and  to  him  as  any  in 
the  past. 

Washington  proceeded  to  organize  his  administration  by 
appointing  Jefferson  to  the  State  Department,  Hamilton  to 
the  Treasury,  Knox  to  the  War  Department,  and  Edmund 
Randolph  as  Attorney  General.  It  is  difficult  to  decide,  in 
the  then  disturbed  and  disordered  state  of  affairs,  foreign 
and  domestic,  when  a  policy  was  to  be  fixed,  internal  and 
international,  which  of  these  offices  was  of  the  first  impor- 


38  JEFFERSON    AND    HAMILTON. 

tance  or  required  the  higher  order  of  abilities.  We  incline 
to  think  that  the  treasury,  though  not  the  first  in  dignity, 
was  the  first  in  difficulty ;  mainly  because  the  principal 
matters  of  foreign  relations  were  dependent  for  solution 
on  general  grounds  and  considerations,  and  were  of  such 
patent  interest  as  invited  the  examination  and  co-operation 
of  the  whole  administration ;  while  the  affairs  of  the  trea- 
sury, depending  upon  knowledge  of  political  economy  and  of 
finance,  and  consisting  of  an  infinite  number  of  particulars, 
must  necessarily  have  been  left,  in  a  great  measure,  to  the 
head  of  that  department. 

To  Jefferson  must  be  awarded  the  high  praise  which  his 
celebrated  report  on  the  state  of  our  foreign  relations  has 
ever  commanded.  It  is  one  of  the  ablest  state-papers  ever 
issued  from  any  department  of  the  government ;  indeed,  his 
whole  correspondence  in  his  department,  while  it  elicited  the 
warm  approbation  of  Washington,  throws  an  enduring  lustre 
on  his  pen. 

Hamilton's  busy  invention  was  at  work  on  the  finances. 
He  found  the  public  credit  at  its  lowest  ebb ;  the  country 
impoverished ;  every  interest  languishing ;  the  sources  of 
revenue  choked  up.  His  funding  system,  making  provision 
for  the  payment  of  the  public  debt ;  the  system  of  internal 
taxes  and  excise ;  the  assumption  of  the  debts  of  the  States 
incurred  during  the  Revolution  ;  laying  a  tariff  of  duties  on 
foreign  importations ;  these,  some  of  them  bold  and  sharp 
measures  of  relief,  and  bitterly  opposed  at  the  time,  were 
proposed  and  carried  through  with  a  nerve  and  vigor  worthy 


JEFFERSON   AND    HAMILTON    IN    THE    CABINET.  39 

of  all  praise.  The  Whiskey  Boys  of  Pennsylvania  rose  against 
the  excise ;  and  Washington  issued  his  proclamation,  and 
proceeded  to  collect  an  army  to  put  down  the  insurrection ; 
but  the  insurgents  disbanded. 

The  policy  of  the  Secretary  of  the  Treasury  found  but 
little  favor  with  the  Secretary  of  State.  They  got  along 
badly,  we  suspect,  from  the  first.  They  both  held  the  most 
prominent  positions  before  the  country.  They  were  both 
very  ambitious.  They  were  both  fond  of  having  their  own 
way.  Neither  had  been  accustomed  to  a  rival,  and  could 
little  brook  one.  There  was  but  little  agreement  in  politi- 
cal character ;  indeed,  their  political  opinions,  as  to  radical 
principles,  were  nearly  antipodal ;  and  there  was  but  little 
congeniality  of  personal  disposition.  They  were  equally 
jealous  of  the  favor  of  Washington  ;  for  it  was  every  thing 
at  that  time.  Each  was  conscious  that  himself  and  the  other 
were  making  history ;  and  we  cannot  doubt  that  each  was 
looking,  as  none  had  better  right  or  reason  to  look,  to  the 
highest  office  in  the  future ;  for  it  was  not  then  discovered 
that  great  talents  and  great  services  were  impediments  to  the 
first  office  in  the  nation. 

Hamilton  was,  by  fourteen  or  fifteen  years,  the  younger; 
but  this  disparity  was  counterbalanced  by  the  singular  pre- 
cocity of  his  genius,  and  his  early,  active,  and  continuous 
employment  in  various  business,  military,  political,  and  pro- 
fessional, of  the  greatest  moment.  Every  thing  contributed 
to  stimulate,  mature  and  strengthen  his  judgment;  for  at 
periods  teeming  with  such  events  and  developments,  days  are 


40  JEFFERSON    AND    HAMILTON. 

not  counted  by  the  dial.  A  man  who  had  lived  through  ten 
or  fifteen  years  of  such  times,  had  the  experience  of  a  long 
life  running  in  smooth  and  common  channels.  Jefferson  had 
reached  that  age,  when  the  energies,  full  yet  of  vitality  and 
vigor,  seem  most  vehemently  directed  to  the  attainment  of 
the  hopes  and  projects  of  life. 

Hamilton,  we  suspect,  had  more  force  and  demonstration 
of  character.  If  he  had  not  more  character,  it  was  more 
prominent.  He  had  more  intensity  and  directness  of  pur- 
pose. He  met  men  and  difficulties  more  boldly.  Jefferson, 
if  he  did  not  shrink  from  controversy,  was  not  fond  of  it. 
Hamilton  liked  it.  The  sharp  collisions  of  intellect  had  for 
him  an  agreeable  excitement.  Jefferson  had  more  wariness 
and  caution.  He  was  more  adroit,  but  he  was  more  circuit- 
ous. He  was  an  able  writer,  and  one  of  the  best  conversa- 
tionists of  his  age,  with  every  faculty,  it  would  seem,  for 
public  speaking.  We  do  not  regard  the  want  of  volume 
of  voice,  alluded  to  by  Mr.  Wirt,  as,  by  any  means,  an  in- 
superable obstacle  ;  greater  defects  having  been  overcome 
by  orators  not  half  so  well  furnished  forth  by  nature.  Yet, 
notwithstanding  these  advantages,  though  he  often  called  his 
friends  out  to  combat  for  his  principles  or  party,  he  seldom 
or  never  took  the  field  of  controversy  himself.  There  was 
little  of  the  knight  or  the  gladiator  in  him. 

In  the  cabinet  of  "Washington  the  illustrious  rivals  met 
vis  a  vis.  We  have  Jefferson's  word  for  it,  that "  Hamilton 
and  myself  were  daily  pitted  in  the  cabinet  like  two  cocks." 
They  seldom  agreed.  Each  had  adherents  in  and  out  of  the 


HAMILTON'S  INFLUENCE.  41 

council-hall.  Randolph  usually  sided  with  Jefferson ;  Knox 
with  Hamilton.  Their  deliberations  generally  resulted  in  a 
dead  lock ;  the  discussions  ending  where  they  began.  The 
presiding  Will,  the  slow-pondering,  massive,  patient,  pru- 
dent, almost  unerring  judgment  of  the  august  chief  turning 
the  scale.  That  judgment,  it  must  be  confessed,  usually 
sided,  with  conciliating  modifications,  when  possible,  with 
Hamilton. 

The  influence  of  Hamilton  seems  to  have  been  felt  by 
Jefferson  with  no  little  poignancy.  In  a  letter  to  the  Pre- 
sident, 9th  September,  1792,  after  complaining  that  he 
"  was  once  made  a  tool  of  by  the  Secretary  of  the  Treasury 
for  forwarding  his  schemes,  not  then  sufficiently  under- 
stood by  him  "  (alluding  to  one  of  the  financial  measures  of 
Hamilton)  he  refers  to  the  interferences  of  that  gentleman  in 
his  (Jefferson's)  own  department.  "  My  system,"  he  says, 
"  was  to  give  some  satisfactory  distinctions  to  the  former 
(France)  of  little  cost  to  us  in  return  for  the  solid  advan- 
tages yielded  us  by  them ;  and  to  have  met  the  English  with 
some  restrictions,  which  might  induce  them  to  abate  their 
severities  against  our  commerce.  Yet,"  he  adds,  "  the 
Secretary  of  the  Treasury,  by  his  cabals  with  members  of 
the  legislature,  and  by  high-toned  declamation  on  other 
occasions,  has  forced  down  his  own  system,  which  is  exactly 
the  reverse." 

"  These  views,  thus  made  to  prevail,  their  execution  fell, 
of  course,  to  me ;  and  I  can  safely  appeal  to  you,  who  have 
seen  all  my  letters  and  proceedings,  whether  I  have  not  car- 


42  JEFFERSON  AND  HAMILTON. 

ried  them  into  execution  as  sincerely  as  if  they  had  been 
my  own,  though  I  ever  considered  them  as  inconsistent  with 
the  honor  and  interest  of  our  country?  The  words  itali- 
cised by  us  certainly  show  great  frankness  of  acknowledgment. 
The  objections  then  urged  to  the  financial  system  of 
Hamilton  are  now,  with  most  of  the  other  matters  of  oppo- 
sition to  the  first  administration,  generally  considered  un- 
sound. Most  of  them  seem  to  us  at  this  day  as  almost  fac- 
tious ;  some  of  them  nearly  puerile.  The  objections  that 
the  funding  system  led  to  speculation ;  that  the  scrip  of 
the  government  had  sunk  below  par,  and  that  some  of  it 
was  bought  up  for  a  trifle,  and,  therefore,  ought  not  to  be 
paid  up  in  full,  surely  were  answered  by  the  words  of  the 
bond.  The  government,  after  having  pledged  its  faith  to 
pay  these  debts,  was  bound  to  pay  them  in  full  according  to 
its  contract.  It  was  nothing  to  it  what  was  the  contract  be- 
tween assignor  and  assignee ;  while  the  policy,  at  that  time, 
of  meeting  promptly  its  obligations,  was  even  more  clear 
than  its  justice.  Nor  was  the  objection  to  assuming  the 
debts  of  the  several  States,  incurred  in  the  common  war  and 
for  the  common  benefit,  better  grounded  ;  the  objection, 
namely,  that  some  of  them  were  not  judiciously  contracted, 
and  to  a  want  of  precision  as  to  the  amount  and  direction  of 
the  appropriation.  The  general  charge,  true  or  not,  that  the 
money  to  be  disbursed  and  the  oflices  connected  with  the 
system,  would  or  might  be  made  the  means  of  buying  up 
partisans  and  corrupting  the  legislature,  would  have  applied, 


43 

probably,  to  any  system ;  and  is,  at  best,  more  an  objection 
to  money  in  the  hands  of  government,  than  to  the  particular 
project  which  proposed  to  dispense  it. 

It  is  certain  that  the  effect  of  the  system  was  to  raise  the 
credit  and  character  of  the  government ;  while  the  enormous 
evils  predicted  from  it  did  not  ensue. 


CHAPTER  V. 

The  French  Eevolution — Jefferson's  and  Hamilton's  opposite  feelings  towards  Franco 
—The  French  difficulty— Poace  with  France. 

THE  French  difficulty  began  to  grow  apace.  The  country 
was  thrown  into  a  violent  excitement.  The  popular  sympa- 
thies, even  to  enthusiasm,  sided  with  France.  It  was  na- 
tural they  should.  We  had  been  allies.  Our  flags  had  flown, 
side  by  side,  in  the  decisive  battles  of  the  war.  Our  sol- 
diers had  fought,  shoulder  to  shoulder,  in  the  late  campaigns. 
La  Fayette — so  popular  as  a  hero — was,  for  a  time,  at  the 
head  of,  or  prominent  in,  the  movement  there.  It  was  the 
rising  of  the  people  against  tyrants.  The  movement  was  an 
assertion  of  the  principles  we  had  fought  for,  and,  as  was 
claimed,  but  the  following  of  our  example  and  teachings. 
And,  then,  our  great  men,  our  Franklins,  Washingtons,  and 
Jeffersons,  and,  indeed,  our  whole  country,  were  objects  of 
the  most  honeyed  commendation  and  flattery. 

Great  Britain  and  France  were  pitted  against  each 
other  in  exterminating  warfare.  The  battle  for  national  ex- 
istence and  the  mastery  of  the  world,  was  to  be  fought  out ; 


JEFFERSON'S  PARTIALITY  FOR  FRANCE.  45 

and  that  great  European  struggle,  the  like  of  which  time, 
in  all  its  flight  of  centuries,  had  never  seen  before,  was  just 
beginning  to  convulse  the  world.  Never  was  there  a  greater 
national  delusion  than  prevailed  here,  in  the  first  stages  of 
the  French  Revolution.  Jefferson  partook  of  it  to  intoxica- 
tion. He  was  in  France  during  the  first  unfolding  of  that 
great  movement.  While  there,  he  was  treated  with  marked 
kindness  ;  had  received  many  tokens  of  favor ;  had  made 
many  friendships ;  was  intimate  with  Condorcet  and  D'Alem- 
bert ;  was  toasted  by  the  savans,  and  was  welcomed  by  the 
philosophers  ;  was  courted  by  the  intellect  and  wit,  the 
beauty  and  polished  graces,  of  the  gay  metropolis,  then  as 
ever  abounding  in  the  most  luxurious  and  fascinating  society 
of  the  world.  He  was  Epicurean  in  his  tastes,  and  French 
in  his  mental  organization.  He  liked  the  freedom  and  grace 
of  Parisian  manners,  and  the  new  French  ideas  on  religion, 
government,  and  philosophy.  He  saw  before  him  the  vision 
and  dream  of  his  youth — the  equality  and  brotherhood  of 
man,  and  his  political  and  moral  regeneration,  rising  over 
old  systems,  like  a  morning  star  in  the  firmament.  He 
came  away  before  the  first  acts  of  the  Revolution  had  been 
succeeded  by  its  bloodier  scenes.  He  came  away  with  im- 
pressions in  favor  of  France  and  her  movement,  too  deep 
to  be  obliterated ;  and  he  found  prevailing  at  home  the  sen- 
timents he  brought  with  him. 

With  Hamilton  it  was  different.  He  was  English  in  his 
structure  of  mind,  and  in  his  philosophy  of  government. 
He  had  no  French  notions,  tastes,  or  habitudes.  He  had 


46  JEFFERSON    AND    HAMILTON. 

more  of  reverence  than  love  of  novelty.  He  had  opposed 
the  British  Government,  not  because  he  disliked  it,  but  be- 
cause of  his  love  of  British  liberties  and  institutions,  which 
the  king  had  denied  to  us.  He  was  any  thing  but  a  demo- 
crat. He  had  no  great  confidence  in  the  masses.  He  saw 
in  this  sudden  movement  no  hope  of  good.  Jefferson,  fol- 
lowing him  with  his  pen,  records  in  his  Anas,  as  something 
very  heretical,  that  Hamilton  said :  "  The  republic  of  France 
would  not  last  three  months."  Like  Burke,  he  was  not  de- 
ceived by  words  of  philanthropy  covering  dark  deeds  of 
crime.  Murder  appeared  to  him  no  better,  when  tricked  out 
in  philosophic  robes,  than  in  the  old  garb  of  vulgar  assassina- 
tion. The  tyranny  of  an  upstart  mob  was  as  hateful  to  him 
as  the  tyranny  of  a  king.  He  did  not  believe  in  a  sudden 
wrench,  from  an  ignorant  and  besotted  servility,  to  the 
self-respect  and  self-control  necessary  to  a  virtuous  liberty. 
Progression  and  adaptation  for  higher  enjoyments  and  uses, 
following  the  processes  of  nature,  are  things  of  growth  and 
development,  and  not  a  miraculous  conversion.  He  did  not 
mistake  the  yell  of  slaves,  drunk  with  blood  and  license,  for 
the  shout  of  freedom.  And  when  the  long  procession  of 
hurdles  moved  down  the  streets  of  Paris  to  the  guillotine, 
or  returned  with  the  ghastly  heads  of  delicate  females  fixed 
on  pikes,  he  did  not  suppose  that  to  be  a  procession  of  free- 
men. Nor  did  Jefferson  and  his  party.  They  thought 
these  horrid  outrages  only  the  first  excesses  of  exaspe- 
ration, which,  if  not  marking  all  revolutions,  at  least  in 
this  instance,  were  only  the  natural  results  of  the  passions 


THE   FRENCH    DIFFICULTY.  47 

despotism  had  planted  or  aroused ;  and  that,  after  reason 
had  time  to  resume  her  sway,  the  order,  moderation  and  se- 
curity of  good  government  would  succeed. 

We  think  Hamilton,  at  this  time  or  afterwards,  if  not 
disposed  to  an  alliance  with  England,  at  least  wished  to 
favor  her  by  discriminations.  We  think  it  as  evident  that 
Jefferson  was  disposed  in  the  same  way  towards  France. 
The  sober,  better  judgment  of  Washington  was  for  neither. 
With  a  wisdom  we  can  find  no  language  sufficiently  ex- 
pressive to  extol,  he  determined  to  keep  aloof  from  both ; 
to  have  no  entangling  alliances ;  "  not  to  quit  our  own  to 
stand  on  foreign  ground."  He  was  for  a  judicial  impar- 
tiality between  the  belligerents.  This  did  not  suit  the 
temper  of  France,  and  of  French  partisans  and  sympathizers 
here  and  elsewhere.  The  French  took  to  fitting  out  ships 
in  our  ports,  and  to  sallying  out  from  them  for  prizes,  and 
bringing  them  in.  Washington  put  his  peremptory  veto  on 
this  high-handed  proceeding. 

Mistaking  the  temper  of  the  American  people,  and  mia 
led  by  the  clamor  of  French  partisans  here,  the  French 
Envoy  took  ground  against  the  government,  and  proposed 
an  issue  before  the  people  between  himself  and  the  adminis- 
tration. The  insult  was  rebuked.  The  French  government 
took  up  the  quarrel.  Public  feeling  was  aroused.  In  the 
midst  of  this  excitement,  Jay's  treaty  was  made  and  ratified. 
Then  came  such  wanton  outrages  and  insults  to  our  min 
isters  and  country,  by  the  upstart  rulers  of  France,  that 
American  blood  boils  to  this  day  when  we  recall  them. 


48  JEFFERSON    AND    HAMILTON. 

Before  the  acme  of  this  excitement,  Jefferson  and  Hamil 
ton  were  out  of  the  cabinet.  Indeed,  Washington,  before  the 
last  of  these  acts,  had  given  up  the  presidency,  and  John 
Adams  had  succeeded  to  it.  Washington  was  up  for  war.  So 
was  Hamilton.  Indeed  the  old  military  and  heroic  spirit, 
and  that  of  the  country  generally,  was  thoroughly  roused. 

War  measures  were  taken  by  Congress ;  a  large  army 
provided  for ;  Washington  put  at  its  head,  and  Hamilton 
made  the  second  in  command ;  when,  without  consulting  his 
cabinet,  and  to  the  astonishment  of  Washington  and  Hamil- 
ton, the,  President,  in  one  of  those  freaks  of  wilfulness  and 
eccentricity  to  which  he  was  subject,  sent  a  commission  to 
France ;  and  the  rulers  there,  whose  policy  was  to  bully  and 
not  to  fight,  gladly  availed  themselves  of  the  opportunity 
to  make  peace. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Jefferson  and  Hamilton  retire  from  the  Cabinet— Their  Cabinet  Controversies— 
Jefferson's  Anomalous  Position  in  the  Cabinet— The  Head  of  the  Opposition — 
Sustains  Freneau's  Abusive  Paper — Opposition  to  "Washington's  Administra- 
tion Considered — Success  of  Washington's  Administration — Jefferson  Eeturns 
Home—Denounces  the  Administration — John  Adams  elected  President — Jeffer- 
son Vice-President— Hamilton  defends  the  Administration— Jefferson's  Opinion 
of  Hamilton  as  a  Writer— The  Federal  Party—John  Adams— His  Conduct  to- 
wards France —  The  Alien  and  Sedition  Laws — Jefferson  elected  President 

IN  December,  1793,  Jefferson  resigned  his  office  of  Sec- 
retary of  State.  Hamilton  remained  as  Secretary  of  the 
Treasury,  until  January,  1795,  when  he  retired. 

For  some  time  before  the  resignation  of  Jefferson,  the 
relations  between  him  and  Hamilton  had  grown  very  bitter ; 
producing  such  dissensions  in  the  administration,  that 
Washington  interposed  to  reconcile  them  and  restore  har- 
mony ;  but  this  was  impossible.  Each  of  course  threw  the 
blame  on  the  other,  and  crimination  and  recrimination  fol- 
lowed. 

Jefferson's  position  in  the  cabinet  was  anomalous.  He 
disapproved  of  almost  all  the  measures  that  marked  the  line 
of  policy,  and  made  up  the  political  character,  of  the  a4- 
3 


5U  JEFFERSON   AND    HAMILTON. 

ministration  of  which  he  was  a  part.  That  administration 
was  violently  attacked  in  Congress  ;  and  a  party,  formidable 
for  its  talents  and  the  influence  of  its  members,  formed 
there,  the  basis  of  whose  organization  was  this  opposition; 
and  the  leaders  of  this  party  were  not  only  representing 
Jefferson's  principles  and  views,  but  were  his  political  and 
personal  friends.  Nay  more.  He  ever  afterwards  referred 
to  this  party  as  his  own,  and  claimed  a  participation  in  the 
merit  he  ascribed  to  their  proceedings. 

The  clerk  in  his  own  office,  the  poet  Freneau,  was  editor 
of  the  newspaper  which  was  the  organ  of  the  opposition; 
and  Freneau,  not  contenting  himself  with  abusing  the  mea- 
sures and  Federal  ministers  of  the  President,  ventured  to  as- 
sail the  President  himself  in  terms  of  violent  vituperation. 
It  is  refreshing  to  recur  to  the  toleration  shown  at  that  day 
to  the  office-holder,  and  to  witness  the  independence  of  a 
cabinet  minister.  We  extract  from  Jefferson's  Anas  :  "  He 
(Washington)  said  he  despised  their  attacks  on  him  person- 
ally &c.  He  was  evidently  sore  and  warm,  and  I  took  his 
intention  to  be  that  I  should  interpose,  in  some  way,  with 
Freneau,  perhaps  withdraw  his  appointment  &c.  But  I 
will  not  do  it.  His  paper  has  saved  our  constitution  *  * 
checked  the  career  of  the  monocrats  ;  and  the  President,  not 
sensible  of  their  designs,  cannot,  with  his  usual  good  sense  and 
sang  fr oid,  look  on  the  efforts  and  effects  of  this  free  press," 
&c.  We  wonder  how  the  distinguished  patriot  of  the  Her- 
mitage  would,  with  "  his  usual  good  sense  and  sangfroid" 
have  met  the  Secretary,  whose  little  French  clerk  had  been 


WASHINGTON'S  ADMINISTRATION.  51 

kept  in  office,  after  it  was  known  that  his  main  business  was 
to  libel  the  President  and  decry  his  measures ;  and,  espe- 
cially, if  the  little  Frenchman  had,  like  Freneau,  the 
"  sangfroid  "  to  send  three  copies  of  his  "free  paper  "  to 
the  President,  for  distribution  every  week ! 

It  is  impossible,  we  think,  to  look  back  upon  the  adminis- 
tration of  Washington,  and  not  disapprove  of  the  temper,  if 
not  of  the  fact  of  opposition  to  it.  Consider  that  the  govern- 
ment was  an  experiment ;  that  successful  administration  was 
almost  as  essential  as  the  constitution  itself;  that  every  thing 
was  at  sea  and  in  chaos ;  that  there  were  no  precedents  or  lights 
in  the  past  to  regulate  the  working  of  this  new  and  anomalous 
machinery;  that  almost  any  government  was  better  than  the 
anarchy  and  confusion  which  must  have  resulted  from  throw- 
ing off  or  checking  the  present  government ;  that  there  were 
difficulties  and  trials  of  cJl  sorts,  external  and  internal ; 
that  most  of  these  measures  were  really  unobjectionable, 
some  of  them  absolutely  necessary,  and  none  of  them  in- 
corrigibly evil ;  that  all  views  were  represented,  and  all 
parties  heard ;  and  the  final  judgment  pronounced  by  the 
functionary  chosen  by  all,  and  against  whose  wisdom  and  dis- 
interested patriotism  no  suggestion  could  be  made  by  any 
reasonable  or  sober-minded  man ; — when  these  things  are  con- 
sidered, we  are  amazed  at  the  almost  ferocious  opposition 
with  which  every  measure  proposed  was  assailed,  on  grounds 
and  pretexts,  too,  for  the  most  part  unreasonable  and  un- 
tenable, sometimes  even  puerile  and  factious.  But  against 
all  this  opposition  the  administration  triumphed ;  and,  we 


52  JEFTERSON    AND    HAMILTON. 

think,  considering  the  obstacles  arrayed  against  him,  domestic 
and  foreign,  intrinsic  and  factitious,  the  great  chief  exhibited 
a  genius  for  statesmanship,  in  no  degree  inferior  to  that 
which  he  displayed  in  the  field.  Indeed  Washington,  the 
Statesman,  was  even  a  greater  man,  we  think,  thanWashing- 
ton,  the  General. 

We  pass  over  the  measures  of  administrative  policy  in 
the  cabinet  of  Washington,  after  Jefferson's  withdrawal. 
They  were,  in  the  main,  some  important  measures  excepted, 
the  carrying  out  and  fulfilment  of  the  policy  which  had  pre- 
viously been  stamped  on  the  administration.  Jefferson  re- 
turned to  Monticello,  and  seemed  now,  to  all  appearance, 
busy  with  his  "  peas  and  clover,"  and  enjoying  those  calm  ru- 
ral delights  of  which  he  makes  so  much  mention  in  his  let- 
ters. He  opposed  the  remaining  course,  as  he  had  opposed 
the  preceding  acts  of  Washington's  administration ;  and  now 
in  more  open  and  unrestrained  condemnation.  He  did  not 
scruple  now,  in  his  letters,  to  charge  Washington  with  being 
under  the  influence  of  Hamilton  and  the  monocrats,  and  to 
inveigh  against  the  administration,  as  monarchical  in  its  ten- 
dencies and  English  in  its  affinities. 

The  genius  of  Jefferson  could  not  be  idle.  His  pen  and 
tongue  were  busy  in  public  affairs.  He  was  the  monk  of  let- 
ters, and  Monticello  the  monastery  from  whence  poured  those 
effective  missives,  which  no  man  of  his  time  knew  so  well  as 
himself  how  to  employ.  He  was  put  in  nomination  at  the 
succeeding  election,  and  came  near  being  elected ;  but  the 
revulsion  of  the  French  enthusiasm  and  its  re -action  upon 


HAMILTON'S  POLITICAL  ESSAYS.  53 

the  Republicans  prevented  his  success.  On  the  count  of  the 
votes,  it  was  discovered  that  John  Adams  had  received  the 
largest  number,  and  that  Jefferson  was  next  on  the  list.  He 
was,  therefore,  chosen  Vice-President.  He  repaired  to  his 
post,  which  was  little  better  than  a  sinecure,  but  he  made  it 
a  tower  of  observation. 

Nor  had  Hamilton  been  idle.  His  powerful  pen  was  as 
active,  in  defence  of  the  administration,  in  the  public  prints, 
as  his  brain  had  been  busy  in  maturing  its  measures  in  the 
cabinet.  The  essays  of  Camillus  and  Curtius  are  equal  to 
the  best  writings  of  "  The  Federalist."  Jefferson,  writing 
to  Madison,  in  September,  1795,  speaks  of  him  thus: 
"  Hamilton  is  really  a  Colossus  to  the  Anti-Republican  par- 
ty. Without  numbers,  he  is  a  host  within  himself.  They 
have  got  themselves  into  a  defile  where  they  might  be  finish- 
ed ;  but  too  much  security  on  the  Republican  part  will  give 
time  to  his  talents  and  indefatigableness  to  extricate  them. 
We  have  had  only  middling  performances  to  oppose  to  him. 
In  truth,  when  he  comes  forward  there  is  nobody  but  your- 
self who  can  meet  him."  And  the  letter  concludes  :  "  For 
God's  sake  take  up  your  pen,  and  give  a  fundamental  reply  to 
Curtius  and  Camillus." 

Up  to  this  time  the  Federalists  had  prevailed  on  all  im- 
portant issues:  the  financial  policy;  the  international  ques- 
tions ;  the  British  Treaty  ;  the  neutrality  policy ;  the  ques- 
tion of  the  powers  of  the  Executive  as  to  removals  from 
office ;  the  power  of  the  Legislature  to  defeat  a  treaty  by 
withholding  appropriations  to  carry  it  into  effect ;  the  first 


54  JEFFERSON    AND    HAMILTON. 

exertion  of  physical  force  to  suppress  opposition  to  the  laws ; 
and  the  people,  by  electing  Mr.  Adams,  who  approved  all 
these  measures,  over  his  opponent,  seem  to  have  avouched 
this  policy.  Republican  stock  was  at  a  discount.  Indeed, 
Jefferson  seems  to  have  thought  the  prospect  rather  gloomy, 
for,  in  a  letter  to  Mr.  Madison,  January  1,  1797,  he  suggests 
whether  it  "  would  not  be  better  for  the  public  good  to  come 
to  a  good  understanding  with  Adams  as  to  his  future  elec- 
tions," he  being  "  the  only  sure  barrier  against  Hamilton's 
getting  in." 

The  weight  of  talents  was,  we  think,  with  the  Federal- 
ists. Washington,  Hamilton,  Marshall,  Henry,  Ames,  the 
Lees,  the  Adamses,  Otis,  Pickering,  Livingston,  the  Pinkneys, 
and  Luther  Martin,  are  but  a  few  of  the  names  that  shone 
in  the  bright  galaxy  which  revolved  around  or  composed  the 
first  administrations ;  while  the  old  military  corps,  in  its 
higher  and  lower  grades  of  service,  generally  were  on  the 
same  side. 

The  insolence  of  France  and  its  rejection  of  our  minis- 
ters ;  its  assaults  upon  our  commerce ;  the  measures  taken 
by  the  new  administration  to  avenge  these  indignities,  and 
to  protect  our  rights,  swelled  the  popularity  of  the  Execu- 
tive, and  damped  the  spirits  and  ardor  of  opposition. 

That  the  party  in  power,  for  a  long  while  at  least,  might 
have  maintained  its  supremacy,  is  almost  certain,  had  it  not 
been  for  causes  originating  with  itself.  But  the  prudent  course 
was  not  pursued.  Mr.  Adams  was  in  many  respects  the  most 
improper  selection  that  could  have  been  made  for  President. 


JOHN    ADAMS.  55 

It  is  true,  he  had  a  strong  record  of  services,  and  great 
claims  upon  the  gratitude  of  his  country.  He  belonged  to 
an  influential  family;  he  came  from,  at  that  time  more  than 
now,  an  influential  section ;  which  had  contributed  largely 
to  the  glory  and  success  of  the  Revolution,  and  had  stood 
the  £rst  and  fiercest  onset  of  tyranny.  He  was  a  man  of 
positive  character,  of  pure  reputation,  of  great  courage  and 
boldness,  of  impassioned  eloquence,  and  of  active  and  untir- 
ing energies.  His  patriotism,  honesty  and  magnanimity, 
were  known  to  the  country.  He  was  one  of  the  very  earli- 
est champions  of  freedom ;  had  moved  the  appointment  of 
Washington  to  the  command  of  the  army ;  had  seconded  the 
Declaration  and  was  its  most  eloquent  advocate.  It  was  he, 
more  than  any  other  man,  who,  by  his  zeal,  eloquence,  and 
boldness  in  the  Congress,  kept  up  the  hopes  of  the  patriots, 
and  pushed  through  the  measures  that,  in  the  dark  hours  of 
the  struggle,  were  needed  to  sustain  it  and  give  it  success  ; 
and  to  the  negotiations,  so  important  to  the  achievement 
and  security  of  the  final  victory,  he  had  largely  contributed. 
Indeed,  his  life  was  a  sort  of  embodiment  of  the  political 
history  of  the  Revolution.  But  he  had  some  great  faults  of 
temper  and  character.  He  was  bold,  but  his  boldness  ran 
into  rashness.  He  was  frank,  but  his  frankness  ran  into  in- 
discretion. His  confidence  made  him  the  dupe  of  the  most 
transparent  designs,  and  his  suspicions  alienated  him  from 
the  most  trustworthy.  He  was  full  of  learning,  and  he  was 
full  of  crotchets.  His  judgment  was  far  from  sound ',  yet 
he  had  such  conceit  of  his  wisdom  as  made  him  think  himself 


56  JEFFERSON    AND    HAMILTON. 

nearly  infallible.  His  vanity  was  enormous,  irritable  and 
itching,  and  was  the  door  through  which  artful  men  easily 
came  into  his  confidence.  He  thought  himself  equal  to 
Washington,  and  complained  that  he  did  not  get  an  equal 
number  of  votes,  with  an  equal  chance  for  the  presidency. 
He  was  really,  at  bottom,  a  kind,  generous,  noble-hearted 
man ;  but  his  manners  were  so  far  from  conciliating,  that 
they  conveyed  a  very  different  impression.  He  was  incapa- 
ble of  concealment.  He  could  be  read  as  easily  as  his  mes- 
sages. Whatever  he  thought  he  spoke,  and  was  perpetually 
giving  offence  and  handles  to  his  enemies,  and  getting  him- 
self into  hot  water  with  his  friends.  On  some  subjects,  he 
was  little  better  than  a  monomaniac.  Among  these,  was  his 
jealousy  of  Hamilton.  He  looked  on  Hamilton  with  un- 
conquerable aversion.  He  seemed  to  regard  him  as  his  evil 
genius.  Hamilton  haunted  him  like  a  demon ;  he  sat  on 
him  like  a  nightmare,  disturbing  his  peace  and  marring  all 
his  enjoyments.  He  thought  Hamilton  was  in  a  perpetual 
scheme  and  intrigue  against  him.  In  whatever  irritated 
him,  he  could  see  the  hand  of  Hamilton.  In  every  squib 
fired  at  him  in  the  papers ;  in  every  lying  rumor  that  was 
bruited  about  the  political  circles,  he  saw  the  agency  of  the 
never-resting  and  diabolical  Hamilton.  He  denounced 
Hamilton,  every  where  and  on  all  occasions,  with  as  little 
decency  as  reason.  He  became  furious  when  his  name  was 
mentioned.  His  denunciations,  after  a  while,  grew  too  pub- 
lic and  notorious  to  be  disregarded.  Hamilton  wrote  to 
him,  desiring  an  explanation.  He  refused  to  return  any 


PEACE    WITH    FRANCE.  57 

answer.     Hamilton  wrote  again,  denouncing  him,  in  une- 
quivocal terms,  as  a  liar  and  a  slanderer. 

Unfortunately,  Mr.  Adams  was  constitutionally  obsti- 
nate ;  more  unfortunately,  lie  was  fickle  and  vacillating. 
The  country  was  hot  for  war.  France  was  not  foolish  enough 
to  go  to  such  a  length.  She  was  in  no  condition  for  it.  She 
never  intended  it.  She  would  soon  have  sued  for  peace.  In 
one  of  his  self-willed  whims,' without  mentioning  the  subject 
to  his  cabinet,  Mr.  Adams,  as  we  before  remarked,  in  the 
teeth  of  the  insults  and  contumelies  of  the  French  Directory, 
sent  off  envoys  to  France  to  seek  a  settlement  of  the  difficulty. 
France  clutched  at  the  chance;  and,  thus,  the  war  fever 
ended  by  a  revulsion  against  the  administration  on  account 
of  its  humiliating  conduct.  Washington,  when  he  heard  of 
the  proposition,  declared  himself  "  horror  struck."  Ham- 
ilton exclaimed  against  it.  The  public  spirit  of  the  na- 
tion was  disgusted  and  humbled.  Whether  the  fact,  that 
Hamilton  was  second,  and,  in  case  of  Washington's  death, 
would  be  the  first  in  the  army  (an  appointment  wrung  from 
Adams,  with  much  groaning  of  spirit,  by  Washington's  per- 
emptory persistence)  whether  this  circumstance  had  any 
thing  to  do  with  this  unfortunate  mission  is  not  known ;  but 
it  is  pretty  certain  that  the  success  of  the  war  movement,  by 
bringing  France  to  terms,  would  have  given  such  a  head  of 
popularity  to  the  Federal  administration,  as  would  have  made 
future  opposition  to  it,  for  some  years  at  least,  futile. 

The  Alien  and  Sedition  laws,  too,  contributed  to  the  un- 
popularity and  downfall  of  the  administration.     If  the  war 
3* 


58  JEFFERSON    AND    HAMILTON. 

had  gone  on,  probably  they  would  not  have  had  much  in- 
fluence. All  minor  questions  would  have  been  swallowed  up 
in  the  war.  They  gave,  however,  the  Republicans  an  issue 
upon  which  they  could  safely  go  before  the  country.  Having 
deprecated  the  war  with  France,  they  were  not  in  a  condition 
to  avail  themselves  of  the  mission  to  much  advantage.  The 
war  itself  was  popular.  Not  much  capital  was  to  be  made 
of  that.  The  Alien  and  Sedition  laws  involved  distinctive 
principles,  and  made  a  platform  broad  enough,  covering  the 
whole  question  of  the  relations  between  the  States  and 
Federal  Government,  upon  which  a  party  might  stand. 
Public  opinion  has  long  since  agreed,  that  these  measures 
were  unconstitutional  and  improper.  They  had,  however, 
their  apologists  and  apologies  in  their  day.  They  were 
passed  in  times  of  violent  excitement ;  when  thirty  thousand 
foreign  emissaries,  it  was  said,  were  engaged  in  machinations 
against  the  government;  and  when  the  press  exhibited  a 
licentiousness  never  before  known.  But  to  make  the  mere 
suspicion  of  the  President,  however  excited,  the  ground  for 
sending  into  exile  a  person  residing  here  ;  and  to  protect  spe- 
cially the  characters  of  the  officers  of  the  general  government 
by  law  of  that  government,  seem  to  us  clearly  beyond  the 
powers  of  the  government.  Why  should  the  general  govern- 
ment protect  the  reputation  of  its  own  officers,  by  special 
law,  any  more  than  their  property  ?  But  more  broadly  : 
although  defaming  a  man,  public  or  private,  is  certainly  an 
outrage,  yet  the  freedom  of  newspapers  to  tell  lies  on  public 
men,  is  so  associated  with  their  power  to  tell  the  truth,  that, 


DEFEAT    OF    THE    FEDERALISTS.  59 

we  think  it  impolitic  to  attempt,  by  law,  to  punish  such 
lying.  The  law  would  afford  but  scant  redress  and  no 
terror  ;  and  the  public  have  long  since  ceased  to  believe  any 
charge,  made  without  proof,  in  a  party  paper.  Besides,  in 
high  party  times,  such  a  law,  if  not  impracticable  of  ex- 
ecution, would  transfer  the  excitement  of  the  stump  and  the 
hustings  to  the  courts  of  justice. 

Other  causes  soon  came  into  play.  Washington  died.  The 
great  American  heart  had  ceased  to  beat ;  and  his  powerful 
influence  freely  given  to  Mr.  Adams's  administration,  with- 
out any  personal  preference  for  him,  was  now  withdrawn. 
Before  he  died,  he  had  summoned  Patrick  Henry  to  the  field 
to  combat  for  the  administration.  He  came  forward,  struck 
one  more  blow  for  what  he  thought  the  right,  but  fell  back, 
soon  afterwards,  into  the  grave.  Hamilton,  "  the  host  with- 
in himself,"  was  still  left.  He  had  helped  to  rally  the  party 
in  1799,  and  the  Federalists  had  again  carried  the  day  in  the 
congressional  elections.  But  now  he  was  alienated.  He 
preferred  C.  C.  Pinkney,  of  South  Carolina,  than  whom  a 
more  chivalrous  and  magnanimous  patriot  never  lived.  The 
folly  of  Mr.  Adams,  in  dismissing  two  of  the  members  of 
his  cabinet,  under  circumstances  of  irritation,  completed  his 
ruin.  The  tide  now  began  to  ebb,  when,  to  cap  the  climax, 
Hamilton  came  out  with  his  pamphlet  denouncing  Adams, 
on  the  eve  of  the  election  in  New  York.  The  Federalists 
were  divided  and  disheartened ;  and  Jefferson  and  Burr  won 
the  day.  In  the  contest  between  Jefferson  and  Burr,  before 


60  JEFFERSON    AND    HAMILTON. 

the  House,  Hamilton,  much  as  he  disliked  Jefferson,  threw 
his  influence  in  his  favor. 

Hamilton  was  now  in  private  life,  and  his  great  rival 
was  in  the  highest  seat  of  power.  The  object  of  Jefferson's 
personal  ambition,  after  so  many  vicissitudes,  had,  at  last, 
been  attained.  It  remained  to  see,  whether  he  could  do 
what  is  often  harder  than  to  win  power — retain  it. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Jefferson  as  a  Party  Tactician— As  President— His  Inaugural  Address— His  Concilia- 
tory Policy— Acquisition  of  Louisiana— Strict  Construction— The  Embargo  and 
Non-Intercourse  Acts— Our  Relations  with  England— Decline  of  the  Federal  party 
—Jefferson's  Policy. 

WHATEVER  may  be  the  estimate  of  Jefferson  as  a  states- 
man, there  can  be  no  doubt  that  he  was  one  of  the  most 
adroit  politicians  who  ever  lived.  We  think,  that,  soon 
after  the  inauguration  of  the  government,  conceiving  it  could 
be  safely  administered  only  upon  his  own  principles,  he  set 
to  work  to  build  up  a  party.  The  opposition  to  the  first 
administration  was  composed  almost  entirely  of  his  friends 
-and  adherents.  The  Anti-Federalists  (so  called  from  hav- 
ing opposed  the  Constitution)  with  Mr.  Madison  and  a  few 
others,  who  had  favored  the  adoption  of  that  instrument, 
constituted  the  germ  and  nucleus  of  his  party. 

By  slow  degrees,  the  little  phalanx  always  kept  together 
and  always  in  opposition,  grew  into  the  army  which,  in  1801, 
bore  Jefferson  triumphantly  into  power.  Nothing  was  omit- 
ted, in  all  that  time,  which  could  add  recruits  or  bring 
strength  to  his  ranks. 


62  JEFFERSON    AND    HAMILTON. 

Jefferson  entered  upon  his  office,  and  delivered  his  Inau- 
gural address.  That  paper  stands  unapproached  as  a  mas- 
terpiece of  composition  of  its  kind  and  for  its  purposes.  We 
think  it,  as  a  composition,  in  every  respect,  superior  to  the 
Declaration  of  Independence.  It  is  difficult  to  see  in  what 
particular  it  could  be  improved.  It  set  forth,  as  far  as  it 
went,  with  the  distinctness  and  beauty  of  a  picture,  an  almost 
perfect  ideal  of  government  under  our  Constitution — its 
powers,  its  means,  and  its  ends.  It  preached,  in  eloquent 
strains,  the  beauties  of  moderation,  of  brotherly  love,  of  a 
return  to  the  kindness  and  confidence  of  old  relations  and 
friendships.  It  hinted  at  amnesty  for  old  offences  and 
differences,  and  invited,  by  its  exhortations,  new  recruits. 

That  these  fraternizing  passages  were  the  dictates  of 
policy,  Jefferson  did  not  scruple  to  avow  to  his  friends. 
He  wished  to  alienate  from  the  Federal  leaders  as  many  of 
their  adherents  as  possible ;  and  so  well  did  he  succeed,  that 
he  crushed,  more  effectually  by  conciliation,  than  he  could 
have  done  by  power,  what  might  still  have  been  a  formidable 
and  troublesome  organization. 

The  remaining  course  of  the  administration  was  pros- 
perous. Circumstances  favored  the  Republicans.  The  old 
"  Heroic-racy,"  as  Jefferson  called  them,  who  had  consti- 
tuted the  flower  of  the  Federal  party,  had  died  or  worn  out. 
A  new  generation  of  voters,  with  fresher  principles  and  newer 
ideas,  had  succeeded.  Victory,  too,  when  it  comes  clothed 
in  moderation,  and  invites  conciliation,  is  an  advocate  of 
moving  eloquence.  The  old  Federal  spirit  was  broken.  Its 


JEFFERSON'S  ADMINISTRATION.  63 

ranks  were  thinned  by  desertion.  Its  leaders  were  alienated 
and  hostile.  Besides,  it  was  the  good  fortune  of  the  Repub- 
licans to  come  in  on  abstract  and  general  maxims,  and  on 
minor  matters  of  objection  and  discontent,  rather  than  upon 
any  great  permanent  measures  of  opposition.  The  Alien  and 
Sedition  laws  are  not  exceptions ;  for  they  were  passed  to 
last  only  for  a  limited  period,  and  were  suffered  to  continue, 
in  almost  nominal  existence,  until  they  expired  by  their  own 
limitation.  Some  removals — not  many — were  made  ;  and 
these,  in  those  primitive  times,  produced  a  considerable  out- 
cry ;  but  they  were  defended  with  such  plausibility,  that  the 
party  who  had  employed  the  last  hours  of  their  rule  in  pro 
viding  for  their  friends,  could  not  very  reasonably  complain 
of  the  new  administration  for  providing  for  a  small  propor- 
tion of  its  own. 

So  successful  was  the  new  administration  in  its  policy 
of  conciliation,  that  even  Mr.  Adams  yielded  his  support  to 
it ;  and,  indeed,  continued,  we  believe,  ever  afterwards  a  sup- 
porter of  the  party  ;  having  been  placed  at  the  head  of  the 
Republican  ticket  of  electors,  in  1818,  by  the  Republican 
party  of  Massachusetts. 

A  review  of  the  measures  of  the  first  Republican  admin- 
istration would  be  impossible  in  the  space  left  us  in  this  pa- 
per. Upon  the  whole,  we  think,  candor  constrains  a  commen 
dation  of  its  general  features.  It  left  the  country  better 
than  it  found  it.  The  cession  of  Louisiana  doubled  the  area 
of  the  Republic,  and  added  indefinitely  to  its  strength  and 
wealth.  The  credit  due  to  Jefferson  for  this  acquisition,  is 


64  JEFFERSON    AND    HAMILTON. 

less,  probably,  than  Mr.  Monroe  and  Mr.  Livingston  deserve. 
The  design  originally  was  only  to  purchase  the  island  of 
New  Orleans  and  Florida.  Bonaparte  was  first  consul.  He 
saw  the  instability  of  his  hold  upon  Louisiana.  With  Great 
Britain  mistress  of  the  seas,  he  knew  that  his  title  was  only 
an  instantaneous  seizin.  He  saw  the  great  value  of  the 
territory  to  his  rival ;  and  he  was  greatly  in  want  of  money 
to  prosecute  his  wars.  He  saw,  at  the  same  time,  the  incal- 
culable importance  of  the  country  to  us.  He  proposed  to 
sell  it  all.  He  put  this  whole  empire  under  the  hammer. 
Mr.  Monroe  stretched  his  authority,  limited  to  the  smaller 
purchase,  and  concluded  a  treaty  of  cession.  The  credit  is 
due  to  Jefferson  of  swallowing  his  over-strained  scruples 
about  the  constitutional  authority,  and  for  clinching  the  bar- 
gain, and  hastening  through  the  measures  that  consummated 
the  transfer  of  the  possession  of  the  territory  to  us.  This 
measure  of  itself  makes  an  epoch  in  American  history. 

It  was  not  long  before  Jefferson  found  the  rigid  rule  of 
construction  which  he  professed  while  out  of  office,  too  strin- 
gent for  a  practical  administration  of  the  government.  It 
is  a  singular  fact,  that  every  important  measure  of  his  pol- 
icy would  have  been  ignored  by  his  own  criterion  of  con- 
stitutional construction,  to  wit ;  that  the  auxiliary  power 
must  bear  such  relation  to  the  express  or  specific  power, 
that  the  latter  could  not  be  executed  without  it.  The  Em- 
bargo, for  example — under  what  clause  of  the  Constitution 
did  that  come?  The  power  to  regulate  commerce?  It 
was  answered  that  this  act  was  to  prevent  commerce,  and 


CHARACTER    OF    AMERICANS.  65 

that  the  power  to  regulate  supposed  the  continued  existence 
of  the  thing  regulated  ;  and  that  if  it  were  a  measure  of  hos- 
tility, there  were  other  modes  of  warfare  more  direct,  unequi- 
vocal and  effective.  And  the  Non-intercourse  Act — it  was 
neither  a  war  measure  nor  a  peace  measure.  It  irritated, 
wasted  and  crippled  like  war,  but  unlike  war,  it  conquered 
nothing  but  our  own  patience  and  resources. 

We  had,  unquestionably,  the  most  abundant  cause  for 
war  with  England.  It  was  high  time  that  the  insolence  of 
England  was  checked.  It  was  time  for  us  to  show  the  na- 
tions of  Europe  that  we  had  a  national  character,  which  we 
intended  should  be  inviolate  and  respected.  Half-way  mea- 
sures are  inconsistent  with  the  dignity  of  the  government 
and  the  genius  of  the  people.  Essentially,  a  warlike  and 
aggressive  people,  Jackson  was  one  of  the  best  representa- 
tives of  the  national  character  we  ever  had.  To  make  the 
administration  a  galvanic  battery,  and  send  out,  from  the 
capitol,  along  all  the  nerves  of  official  connection,  the  elec- 
tric influence  that  arouses  and  animates  a  brave  people  ;  to 
gather  up  the  national  energies  and  hurl  them,  at  once,  like 
lightning,  upon  an  enemy — this  is  the  policy  at  once  of 
resolution  and  of  safety.  This  policy,  we  think,  Jefferson 
did  not  have  the  boldness  to  pursue.  Indeed,  it  was  re- 
served for  Jackson  to  demonstrate  the  terrible  might  of 
freemen,  of  great  individuality  of  will,  aggregating  their 
strength  into  a  single  and  common  effort. 

Jefferson,  though  he  strengthened  his  party  by  adherents 
from  the  opposite,  made  no  fusion.  He  still  kept  up  his 


66  JEFFERSON    AND    HAMILTON. 

distinctive  organization;  and  he  was^  aided  in  this  by  the 
pressure  of  opposition  from  without ;  an  opposition  just 
sufficient  to  consolidate  without  embarrassing  or  compro- 
mising his  party. 

But  that  opposition  became,  after  a  while,  mostly  local 
and  sectional.  It  lost  its  catholic  character.  Federalism 
degenerated  into  a  factious  opposition  to  the  government.  It 
lost  its  old  prestige.  It  lost  its  esprit  du  corps.  As  it 
waned  in  strength,  it  grew  sour,  vindictive  and  turbulent. 
The  flower  and  chivalry  of  the  ancien  regime  had  departed. 
And  now,  first  coming  upon  the  theatre,  were  the  young 
champions  of  Republicanism,  from  the  new  States  and  the  old, 
who,  catching  the  later  and  fresher  spirit  of  the  times, 
charged  hotly  the  waning  squadrons  of  Federalism.  The 
fresh  Bluchers  and  Bulows,  however,  had  nothing  to  do  but 
to  turn  a  defeat  into  a  rout.  .  Tho  old  conservatism  was  out 
of  date.  The  world,  passing  a  figure  on  the  dial,  had  left  it 
behind. 

The  policy  of  Jefferson  was  singularly  politic.  He  was, 
as  we  have  already  remarked,  one  of  the  most  vigilant  and 
shrewd  politicians  of  the  age.  He  gave  but  few  opportuni- 
ties for  assault ;  he  never  failed  to  seize  and  improve  an  ad- 
vantage. He  had  the  essential  faculty  of  turning  every  thing 
to  account ;  of  giving  an  exaggerated  appearance  and  appre- 
ciation to  his  own  principles  and  movements,  and  of  height- 
ening the  designs,  miscarriages  and  practices  of  his  adversa- 
ries. He  had  got  them  down,  and  he  meant  to  keep  them 
down.  He  kept  alive  the  influences  which  had  defeated 


JEFFERSON'S  POLICY.  67 

them.  Those  things  which  made  them  unpopular  before,  he 
made  more  unpopular  now.  He  avoided,  as  far  as  possible, 
new  issues.  He  availed  himself  of  all  the  imprudencies,  the 
shifts,  and  desperate  turns  of  his  adversaries.  Every  one 
of  his  measures  was  a  Republican  measure ;  every  opposi- 
tion was  Federal  opposition.  Even  the  general  maxims  of 
'  government,  which  all  men  approve,  were  made  to  appear  as 
the  distinctive  tenets  of  his  own  sect. 

But  the  most  striking  and  inviting  tableaux  of  party  pro- 
ceedings were  the  first  measures  of  administration  ;  abolish- 
ing internal  taxes ;  pardoning  offenders  under  the  Sedition 
law  ;  diminishing  the  patronage  and  expenditures  of  govern- 
ment ;  repealing  the  Judicial  Bill  with  its  host  of  Federal 
appointees  ; — these  and  other  acts  made  up  a  list  of  popular 
measures,  which  promised  most  auspiciously  for  the  new  re- 
gime. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Hamilton  as  a  Lawyer—  His  Death— Personal  Traits. 

HAMILTON,  during  the  greater  part  of  Jefferson's  first  term, 
was  engaged  in  the  practice  of  law  in  New  York,  earning  and 
building  up  that  professional  reputation  which,  even  in  a  bar 
so  eminent,  placed  him  beyond  rivalry.  On  the  1 1th  of  July, 
1804,  he  fell,  in  a  duel  with  Aaron  Burr,  at  Weehawken, 
near  the  spot  where  his  oldest  son  had  fallen  a  victim  to  the 
same  barbarous  practice.  It  was  not  seen  until  death  had 
removed  him,  what  an  immense  space  he  occupied  in  the 
mind  and  heart  of  his  country.  The  mournful  tidings  pass- 
ed over  the  land,  arousing  the  sympathies  of  all  classes,  and 
entwining  his  memory  with  remembrances  of  the  heroic  age 
of  the  confederacy,  of  which,  next  to  Washington,  he  was 
the  most  vivid  personation.  Since  the  death  of  Washington, 
no  similar  event  has  ever  created  in  the  public  mind  such 
profound  and  universal  sensation.  Looking  back  upon  his 
eventful  and  splendid  career,  and  standing  over  his  early  and 
bloody  grave,  well  might  Fisher  Ames,  thrilling  with  emo- 
tion, exclaim,  as,  in  rapid  review,  the  stirring  events  and  il- 


69 

lustrious  personages  of  the  past  swept  over  his  memory : 
"  My  heart  grows  liquid  as  I  speak,  and  I  pour  it  forth  like 
water."  Public  horror  and  indignation,  like  an  avenging 
Nemesis,  followed  the  honorable  murderer  as  he  fled,  a  vaga- 
bond and  a  fugitive  through  the  land ;  speedily  to  be  trans- 
formed into  a  maurauder  and  turbulent  filibuster,  abhorred 
and  despised  by  all  the  world. 

Whatever  may  be  thought  of  Hamilton  as  a  statesman, 
his  many  virtues  must  be  conceded.  Jefferson  himself  ac- 
knowledged that  he  was  honest,  honorable  and  disinterested 
in  private  life.  He  was  not  without  fault.  History  has  de- 
scended from  its  dignity  to  record  his  amour  with  a  Mrs. 
Reynolds.  But  the  frankness  of  his  acknowledgment  carries 
with  it  proof  of  the  truth  of  his  explanation.  He  was,  at 
least,  as  much  seduced  as  seducer,  and  had  the  temptation 
of  Joseph,  without,  unfortunately,  his  invincible  virtue. 
Besides  this,  there  rests  no  stain  upon  his  life  except  the  act, 
more  of  weakness  than  crime,  which  destroyed  it ;  and  even 
this  last  stain,  under  the  circumstances  of  temptation,  and 
the  perverted  honor,  which  caused  it,  charity  is  almost 
tempted  to  regard  like 

A  drop  upon  a  vestal'a  robe, 
The  worse  for  that  it  soils." 

He  was  ambitious,  but  we  have  "Washington's  authority  for 
saying,  that  his  was  only  the  ambition  which  prompted  him 
to  excel  in  whatever  he  attempted ;  and  this  surely  he  did. 
At  forty,  he  had  achieved  more  than  any  other  man  on  the 


70  JEFFERSON    AND    HAMILTON. 

continent  has  ever  done  at  that  age.  In  letters,  in  oratory, 
in  statesmanship,  in  arms,  in  law,  he  was,  if  not  first,  yet  not 
second  to  any  man  of  his  country  in  any  one  of  these  depart- 
ments of  intellect  or  service ;  while  he  stands  alone  in  the 
distinction  of  wearing  the  wreath  which  blends  all  these  hon- 
ors in  harmonious  union.  He  was  brave,  generous,  placa- 
ble, magnanimous,  gay  and  social  of  temper,  frank,  direct 
and  unsuspecting ;  with  no  sordid  qualities  or  littleness  of 
mind  ;  liberal  in  his  bounties  and  expenditures  ;  caring 
nothing  about  money ;  jealous  of  reputation ;  punctilious  of 
honor ;  and  fired  by  a  noble  passion  for  glory.  He  was  full 
of  energy  and  firmly  fixed  in  his  purposes ;  not  sparing  of 
labor,  and  had  a  remarkable  power  of  application,  and  force 
and  hardihood  of  will.  No  man  was  more  constant  to  his 
friends  or  his  principles,  never  deserting  or  compromising 
either  ;  and  no  man  had  a  greater  faculty  of  attracting  and 
retaining  the  friendship  of  others.  We  do  not  wonder  that 
Hamilton  thought  Julius  Caesar  the  greatest  man  that  ever 
lived.  There  was  no  little  resemblance  between  them  in 
variety  and  kind  of  accomplishments ;  even  somewhat  in 
person ;  in  energy ;  in  the  qualities  we  have  mentioned ;  in 
ambition,  though  better  tempered  ;  in  opposition  to  anarchy 
and  popular  turmoil,  and,  alas  !  what  was  to  complete  the 
parallel,  in  falling  in  the  prime  of  life,  by  the  blow  of  an  en- 
vious and  malignant  Casca. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

The  Republican  and  Federal  Parties— Characteristics  of  each— Jefferson's  Democracy 
— Hamilton's  Conservatism — Errors  of  both. 

WITH  Hamilton  died  the  last  hope  of  Federal  ascendency. 
The  WAR  OF  IDEAS,  of  which  he  was  the  leader  on  one  side, 
and  Jefferson  on  the  other,  may  now  be  said  to  have  con- 
cluded its  first  and  most  important  campaign.  What  was 
the  difference  ?  In  the  dust  and  confusion  of  the  field,  and 
in  the  multitude  of  the  combatants,  with  different  banners, 
it  is  sometimes  hard  to  see  the  original  ground  of  conflict. 
We  take  it,  however,  to  have  been  the  same  principle  which 
has  always  divided  parties  and  societies :  the  principle  of 
Conservatism  and  the  principle  of  Progression  ;  the  princi- 
ple of  stability  and  the  principle  of  change ;  the  principle 
which  is  more  solicitous  of  keeping,  than  of  hazarding  what 
it  has  for  the  chance  of  getting  more,  and  the  principle 
which  considers  what  it  has  as  mainly  valuable  as  capital  for 
future  acquisitions.  The  one  principle  owns  prudence  for 
its  parent ;  the  other  enterprise.  The  one  looks  to  the  past ; 
the  other  to  the  future.  The  one  is  sanguine  and  hopeful ; 


72  JEFFERSON    AND    HAMILTON. 

the  other  cautious  and  calculating.  Conservatism  affects 
security ;  Progress  delights  in  achievement ;  preferring  the 
turbulence  and  dangers  of  agitation  to  the  calm  which  rusts 
genius,  and  dulls  intellect,  and  invites  despotism.  These  are 
the  extremes  of  the  warring  principles  which  these  illustrious 
men  severally  advocated,  and  which  constituted  the  radical 
and  organic  basis  of  their  creeds. 

The  war  of  the  Revolution  was  the  war  of  the  people 
against  the  crown.  Jefferson  had  taken  the  side  of  the 
people.  He  was  for  giving  all  authority  to  them.  He  was 
essentially  a  democrat.  He  was  for  practically  transferring 
to  the  people  all  the  powers  of  the  government  in  every  de- 
partment, so  that  their  will  should,  as  far  as  possible,  be  the 
animating  and  controlling  spirit  of  the  government.  He  had 
seen  the  powers  of  government  grossly  abused,  in  many 
instances,  by  the  crown  and  its  satellites.  He  felt  jealous 
of  all  governments,  and  was  full  of  distrust  of  all  who  con- 
trolled them.  His  sympathies  were  all  with  the  people.  He 
was  for  a  weak  government.  He  thought  the  world  governed 
over-much.  Looking  up  the  line  of  institutions,  civil  and 
ecclesiastical,  he  saw  the  road  marked,  as  with  milestones, 
by  monuments  of  the  monstrous  cruelties  and  tyrannical  ex- 
cesses of  government ;  the  dark  crimes,  the  inquisitions,  the 
gibbets,  the  Bastiles,  the  graves  of  martyrs ;  the  people 
crouching  in  ignorance  and  servility,  despoiled  by  robbers  in 
the  garments  of  priests  and  kings,  and  princes  rioting  in 
splendid  palaces,  built  by  the  hands  of  pillaged  labor.  It 
was  a  dark  and  gloomy  picture.  He  attributed  all  the  evils 


JEFFERSON'S  DEMOCRACY.  73 

of  society  to  bad  government.  Accordingly,  when  the  new 
government  superseded  the  old,  he  did  all  he  could  to  give 
effect  to  the  popular  principle.  It  must  be  confessed,  that 
in  radical  democracy,  he  was  far  ahead  of  his  age.  Perhaps 
he  went  too  far.  Seeing  all  these  evils  prevailing  when 
kings  were  on  top,  he  thought  too  sanguinely  they  would 
all  cease  by  putting  the  people  on  top.  We  think  that,  if 
not  opposed  to  the  Federal  constitution,  he  was  not  cordial 
to  it.  In  another  place  we  may  advert  to  this  point ;  but 
certainly,  after  the  new  government  had  been  formed,  he  op- 
posed most  of  the  acts  which  demonstrated  its  power.  In- 
deed, if  we  were  to  take  his  casual  dicta  on  such  matters, 
for  his  matured  convictions — his  objections  to  the  extradi- 
tion of  criminals,  his  seeming  sympathy  with  Shay's  re- 
bellion, and  with  the  Whiskey  Boys,  and  the  like — we  should 
be  apt  to  suppose  that  he  was  an  enemy  to  all  government. 
But  this  supposition  is  contradicted  by  subsequent  develop- 
ments. His  jealousy  of  the  Federal  government  had  a 
different  cause  from  that  of  John  Randolph,  and  others  of 
the  Virginia  school.  It  was  not  founded  in  Virginia  feel- 
ing and  State  pride.  It  was  based  on  his  dislike  of  power, 
wherever  lodged,  or  by  whomsoever  wielded.  It  did  not 
dissociate  the  power  of  government  from  the  tyranny  of 
government.  Hamilton,  from  a  different  stand-point,  took  a 
different  view.  He  had  opposed  the  British  government, 
because  we  were  denied  its  blessings.  He  considered  that 
government  an  almost  perfect  plan  of  civil  rule.  He  thought 
the  end  of  government  was  to  secure  life,  liberty,  property— •*• 
4 


74  JEFFERSON    AND    HAMILTON. 

in  fine,  the  rights  of  the  citizen ;  that  the.se  rights  were  in  as 
much  danger  from  the  passions  of  the  people,  or  of  portions, 
or  individuals  of  them,  as  from  the  crown  or  the  rulers ; 
that  a  strong  government  was  necessary  to  protect  these 
rights ;  and  that  a  weak  government  led  to  anarchy,  and 
anarchy  to  despotism.  And  looking  up  the  past,  he  saw,  by 
the  light  of  history,  amidst  riot,  confusion,  turbulence,  and 
tyranny,  the  failure  of  all  experiments  of  government  in  which 
the  people  bore  a  principal  share  of  the  power.  He  saw,  too, 
what  was  natural  on  the  breaking  up  of  a  camp  of  unpaid 
soldiers,  and  the  first  attempt  to  bring  to  the  discipline  of 
government  those  whom  the  camp  had  made  licentious  and 
poor,  signs  of  anarchy  and  insubordination  around  him. 

Both  of  these  great  men  were  friends  of  liberty ;  but  they 
differed  as  to  the  best  means  of  attaining  and  securing  it. 
Jefferson  was  a  Republican,  upon  grounds  so  broad  as  to 
embrace  within  his  theory  all  nations  and  all  people.  He 
seemed  to  think  that  man  every  where,  and  by  the  mere 
force  of  his  humanity,  was  fit  for  self-government.  Hamil- 
ton doubted  if  man,  any  where  or  under  any  circumstances, 
was  fitted  for  self-government.  We  think  both  erred. 
That  political  affairs  require  skill,  judgment,  intelligence, 
and  integrity  of  character  all  concede  ;  and  we  know  that,  in 
the  masses  of  the  population  of  other  countries,  these  qualities 
do  not  reside.  The  experiment  of  self-government  has  signally 
failed  with  them,  whenever  it  has  been  tried. 

But  we  think  it  was  the  error  of  Hamilton  that  he 
looked  to  other  people,  and  not  sufficiently  to  our  own; 


THE    AMERICAN    PEOPLE.  75 

that  he  relied  on  history  instead  of  observation ;  that  he  did 
not  give  sufficient  effect  to  the  peculiar  circumstances  which 
impressed  so  distinctive  a  character  upon  our  people  :    their 
lineage;    their  familiarity  with  the  rights  secured   by  the 
British  constitution  and  the  charters ;    their  tuition ;    the 
long  struggle  they  had  gone  through ;    their  few  and  simple 
wants,  requiring  few  rulers   and   little  government;    their 
happy  isolation,  away  from  the  contiguity  of  older  societies 
and  other  countries  ;    their  actual  participation  in  the  trans- 
actions of  government ;    the  knowledge  of  men  which  the 
times  had  brought  home  to  them;    the  practical  equality 
which  had  all  along  subsisted  between  the  members  of  com- 
munities, homogeneous,  and  with  little  disparity  of  fortunes 
or  great  diversity  of  interests ;    the   fact  that  royalty  had 
struck  no  deep  roots  in  the  soil,  and  that  there  was  no  aris- 
tocracy of  exclusive  privileges  and  distinct  interests;    and 
that  republicanism  was  only  one  step  in  advance  of  the 
former  system  as  to  us ;   but,  more  especially,  the  individu- 
ality of  will,  and  the  self-respect  which  distinguished  the 
Anglo-Saxon    breed,   with    their   maxim,    "  GOD    AND    MY 
RIGHT  ;  "    and  then,  the  quantity  and  cheapness  of  land,  giv- 
ing every  man  the  means  of  pecuniary  independence,  with- 
out which  there  can  be  no  other  independence,  and  the  rural 
character,  and  dispersed  and  uncrowded  condition  of  the  peo- 
ple.    These  are  some  of  the  considerations  which,  we  think, 
in  view  of  the  universal  call  for  Republican  Institutions, 
should  have  determined  the  statesman  upon  an  unhesitating 
and  confiding  trial  of  the  experiment. 


76  JEFFERSON    AND    HAMILTON. 

Hamilton  thought,  as  reported  by  Mr., Madison,  that  the 
British  Government  was  the  best  in  the  world,  "  and  he 
doubted  much  whether  any  thing  short  of  it  would  do  in 
America.  He  was  sensible,  at  the  same  time,  that  it  would 
be  unwise  to  propose  one  of  any  other  than  a  republican 
form." 

We  think  this  intimation  unworthy  of  Hamilton's  intel- 
lect. The  establishment  of  the  British  constitution  here, 
was  simply  an  impossible  thing.  The  interests,  of  which  the 
British  form  was  a  representative,  did  not  exist  here.  We 
had  a  homogeneous  community,  which  did  not  there  obtain. 
Here  was  no  landed  interest,  with  its  dependants  and  par- 
ticular claims,  to  serve  as  a  balance  between  the  crown  and 
the  people.  The  aristocracy  of  England  had  been  built  up 
by  ages,  constituted  a  great  estate  of  the  realm,  and  was 
able,  if  imposed  on,  by  its  wealth  and  dependants  and  connec- 
tions, to  bring  the  kingdom  into  peril  of  overthrow.  Here 
a  mushroom  aristocracy  would  soon  die  out  by  contempt  for 
its  weakness,  and  general  odium  for  its  privileges ;  and  it 
would  have  no  influence  besides  its  votes. 

A  constitution  is  made  for  a  people,  not  a  people  for  a 
constitution ;  and  the  folly  and  futility  of  building  up  a  class 
of  people  in  order  to  get  up  a  constitution  properly  balanced 
are  so  manifest,  that  it  would  seem  to  strike  the  plainest  ap- 
prehension. 

Hamilton  advocated  in  the  convention  this  project :  A 
President,  to  hold  office  during  good  behavior ;  a  Senate  of 
the  same  tenure,  with  power  to  declare  war ;  the  President 


77 

to  have  the  veto  on  State  laws  about  to  be  passed  ;  to  appoint 
the  governors  of  the  States,  who  were  to  have  vetoes  upon 
the  acts  of  the  State  legislatures. 

It  is  said  that  Hamilton's  views  were  considerably  modi- 
fied during  the  progress  of  the  discussions  in  the  conven- 
tion ;  and  that  he  was  finally  for  fixing  the  executive  term 
at  three  years.  He  gave  a  proof  of  his  sagacity,  by  declaring, 
in  opposition  to  the  frequent  recurrence  of  presidential  elec- 
tions, that  every  question  would  be  sunk  in  the  greater  in- 
quiry, Who  shall  be  the  next  President  ? 

But,  notwithstanding  the  almost  monarchial  strength  he 
wished  to  infuse  into  the  new  constitution,  upon  its  adoption 
in  its  present  form,  he  gave  it  his  warm  support ;  and  he 
contributed  as  much,  probably,  as  any  man  to  its  ratification. 
Having  become  the  basis  of  government,  he  often  declared 
that  he  intended,  with  whatever  distrust  of  the  success  of 
the  experiment,  in  good  faith,  to  give  the  constitution  a  fair 
trial. 

We  think  it  the  fault  of  the  two  parties,  which,  for  op- 
posite reasons,  objected,  in  whole  or  in  part,  to  the  constitu- 
tion, that  they  endeavored,  wittingly  or  not,  to  give  such 
construction  to  it  as  accorded  with  their  ideas  of  what  the 
constitution  ought  to  have  been,  rather  than  what  it  meant, 
when  construed  according  to  the  usual  and  recognized 
rules. 

To  the  Republicans  is  due  the  credit  of  exploding  the 
latitudinous  construction,  which  deduced  from  the  "  general 
welfare  "  clause  unlimited  power  ;  while,  when  in  office,  they 


78  JEFFERSON    AND    HAMILTON. 

have  been  compelled  themselves  to  explode  the  hide-bound 
rules  of  construction,  which  would  have  denied  to  the  gov- 
ernment a  claim  to  any  thing  better  than  the  name. 

The  objection  of  Jefferson  to  the  constitution,  that  its 
President  was  "  a  bad  edition  of  a  Polish  king," — an  inferior 
sort  of  elective  monarch — thereby  breeding  the  evils  of  elec- 
tive monarchy  ;  and  the  exaggerated  importance  he  seemed 
to  attach  to  prefixing  a  bill  of  rights  to  that  instrument,  are 
not  regarded  as  proofs  of  his  unquestioned  sagacity.  We 
think,  too,  that  he  mistook  the  whole  framework  of  the  con- 
stitution, when  he  supposed  it  to  be  a  thing  of  majorities,  and 
when  he  wished  to  see  the  democratic/principle  introduced  into, 
and  paramount  over,  every  department,  even  the  judicial.  We 
think  he  could  never  have  retained  that  opinion,  if  he  had 
heard  Mr.  Calhoun's  luminous  speech  in  reply  to  Mr.  Clay, 
on  the  Veto  Power — a  speech,  which  may  be  safely  pro- 
nounced, one  of  the  profoundest  expositions  ever  made  of  the 
true  character  of  the  constitution. 


CHAPTER   X. 

Jefferson  as  a  Statesman— Individual  Freedom— State-Eights— The  "  General  Wel- 
fare "  Clause— Consolidation— Personal  Freedom— Liberty— Free  Popular  Gov- 
ernment—State-Eights Doctrines— Their  Influence. 

JEFFERSON,  having  won  the  victory  in  the  great  civic  battle, 
was  entitled  to  wear  the  laurel.  Whether  all  of  the  prac- 
tical measures  of  administration  which  he  favored  were 
freer  than  the  opposite,  it  is  not  of  any  great  importance  to 
inquire.  The  general  sentiments  he  proclaimed,  and  the 
grounds  upon  which  he  placed  himself  before  the  country, 
the  spirit  and  tendency  of  his  teachings,  were  for  the  largest 
freedom.  The  people  adopted  his  views  j  and  individual 
acts,  while  they  may  be  of  some  influence  in  advancing  or 
thwarting  a  great  organic  principle,  are  obviously  of  infi- 
nitely less  importance  than  the  principle  itself;  as  the 
casual  acts  of  a  person  are  usually  of  less  consequence  than 
his  character. 

Jefferson,  as  a  statesman,  must  be  considered  in  two  as- 
pects ;  as  teaching  the  principle  of  individual  freedom,  and 
the  principle  of  State-Rights.  The  results  of  these  two 


80  JEFFERSON    AND    HAMILTON. 

principles  may  possibly  be  the  same  ;  but  the  doctrines  are 
different.  It  would  not,  however,  seem  to  be  inconsistent 
to  contend  for  the  most  rigid  doctrines  of  the  State-Rights 
school,  and,  yet,  to  hold  the  least  popular  doctrines  in  the 
administration  of  the  State  government.  Accordingly, 
South  Carolina,  in  her  local  administration,  is  the  most  con- 
servative State  in  the  Union ;  while,  we  know,  she  is  the 
strictest  in  State-Rights  tenets.  Jefferson  was  for  both 
creeds.  We  think,  however,  he  will  be  longer  remembered, 
and  that  his  influence  will  be  more  effectual,  in  regard  to  the 
first  than  the  latter  of  these  principles. 

He  marked  out,  with  more  precision  than  any  other 
man,  the  boundaries  of  State  and  Federal  powers.  If  the 
line  was  not  entirely  accurate,  it  was  distinct ;  and,  as_  in 
other  questions  of  boundary,  it  is  better  to  have  a  wrong  line 
than  an  open  one.  It  is  true  he  made  it,  by  his  definition, 
too  narrow,  but  he  modified  his  definition  by  his  practice. 
Federalism,  if  carried  out  to  the  extent  ultra  Federalists 
desired,  must  have  run  into  disunion.  A  consolidated  gov- 
ernment would  be  the  most  corrupt  government  on  earth, 
and  the  most  impracticable.  It  would  be,  indeed,  an  im- 
possible government,  and  would  soon  fall  to  pieces  by  its 
own  cabals  and  corruptions.  But  Federalism  never  could 
go  on  to  the  point  of  consolidation.  The  very  first  assault 
made  upon  the  rights  of  the  States,  by  extending  the  juris- 
diction of  the  general  government  into  the  domestic  forums, 
would  be  followed  by  armed  resistance  ;  and  this  would  lead 
to  a  dissolution,  if  not  of  the  Union,  at  least,  of  the  govern- 


CONSTRUCTION    OF    THE    CONSTITUTION.  81 

ment.  Every  one  who  has  read  the  history  of  the  coun- 
try sees  this.  Georgia  and  South  Carolina  are  only  wit- 
nesses of  what  every  State  would  do.  The  Federal  con- 
struction of  the  "  general  welfare  "  clause  was  really,  in  ef- 
fect, the  principle  of  consolidation;  for,  under  it,  Congress 
could  do  what  it  thought  necessary  to  promote  the  general 
welfare,  that  is,  any  thing  it  chose.  The  resistance  of  this 
dogma,  therefore,  met  at  the  threshold  a  principle  which 
might  have  been  fatal  to  the  government. 

The  Federal  government,  being  derivative,  and  having 
only  limited  powers,  must  confine  itself,  of  course,  to  those 
powers  ;  and  the  legislator,  like  any  other  depository  of 
power,  if  there  be  a  well-founded  doubt  whether  he  has  the 
particular  power  he  is  asked  to  exercise,  is  bound,  in  hon- 
esty, not  to  exercise  it.  No  one  has  a  right  to  do  that,  of 
the  propriety  of  which  he  is  conscientiously  doubtful. 

We  think  it  the  misfortune  of  the  times,  that,  in  the 
construction  of  the  powers,  and  the  settlement  of  the  rela- 
tions of  such  an  anomalous  system  as  our  double  govern- 
ments, men  leaned  to  the  State  or  Federal  governments  ac- 
cording to  their  attachments  or  jealousies.  Unquestionably, 
having  established  a  government  for  the  management  of  na- 
tional affairs,  and  having  retained  the  State  governments 
for  the  management  of  domestic  concerns,  it  was  not  intend- 
ed that  they  should  be  rivals,  but  co-ordinates  ; — each  mas- 
ter in  its  own  jurisdiction ;  and  the  desideratum  was,  to 
keep  each  to  its  own  track,  and  to  give  all  due  efficiency  to 
each  to  enable  it  to  accomplish  its  ends.  A  strong  govern- 


82  JEFFERSON    AND    HAMILTON. 

ment,  unless  it  gets  its  strength  by  usurpation,  or  exercises 
it  with  oppression,  is  not  necessarily  a  tyrannical  govern- 
ment. We  do  not  see,  therefore,  what  sound  policy  forbade 
the  strengthening  of  the  Federal  Government  within  the 
circle  of  its  acknowledged  powers. 

In  respect  to  the  other  principle,  the  personal  freedom  of 
the  citizen,  Jefferson's  sentiments  .and  teachings  have  exer- 
cised a  more  marked  influence  upon  the  minds  of  the  masses  of 
his  countrymen.  The  subtleties  of  constitutional  construc- 
tion, though  no  man  had  the  faculty  of  making  them  intelligi- 
ble to  the  common  understanding  so  well  as  he,  do  not  take 
hold  of  the  minds,  or  impress  themselves  upon  the  hearts,  of 
the  people,  like  questions  of  personal  liberty. 

There  was  an  apparent  justice,  as  well  as  generosity,  in 
his  trust  in  the  masses,  in  his  doctrines  of  political  equality 
and  of  the  supremacy  of  the  people,  which  moved  the  popular 
affections  and  convictions  with  the  force  of  natural  instincts. 
"What  the  precise  nature  and  effects  of  these  teachings  were, 
have  not  always  been  fully  understood.  There  is  a  vague 
declamation  afloat  about  liberty,  which  conveys  no  true 
idea  of  what  it  is,  or  what  its  uses  are.  The  advantages 
of  a  free  and  popular  government  are  not  chiefly,  we  con- 
ceive, in  the  direct  and  immediate  blessings  it  conveys, 
or  the  evils  it  averts.  So  far  as  the  body  of  the  people 
are  concerned,  the  Habeas  Corpus,  probably,  is  of  little 
direct  moment ;  not  one  in  ten  thousand  would  ever 
use  or  miss  it ;  and  so  of  speedy  trial  by  jury,  and  other 
rights  securing  personal  safety  from  the  hands  of  the  gov- 


FREE    GOVERNMENT.  83 

eminent.  The  great  mass  of  the  Russian  people  are,  pro- 
bably, safe  from  personal  violence ;  and  the  impositions 
on  that  people,  for  war  or  governmental  purposes,  in  pro- 
portion to  population,  are  not  greater,  probably,  than  those 
ive  have  borne  within  the  last  quarter  of  a  century. 

Wherein,  then,  is  the  essential  general  advantage  of  the 
popular  system  ?  We  think  in  this :  It  elevates  the  masses. 
By  making  a  man  independent  of  external  control,  he  be- 
comes his  own  master.  He  relies  on  himself.  He  gets 
that  individuality  of  will,  which  is  the  distinctive  attribute 
of  freedom  and  of  manhood.  With  it  comes  self-respect. 
With  these  and  the  political  power  with  which  he  is  clothed, 
comes  the  respect  of  others.  He  feels  his  importance  in  the 
state,  in  his  family,  in  his  neighborhood.  He  becomes  in- 
formed, more  or  less,  as  to  those  things  with  which  he  has 
concern.  He  associates  with  men  with  whom  he  can  profit- 
ably converse  and  exchange  views ;  he  attends  public  dis- 
cussions. The  currents  of  intelligence,  which  circulate  over 
the  country,  come  to  his  mind.  His  port  and  bearing  are 
those  of  a  freeman.  He  educates  his  children.  He  sees 
them  rise  up  to  posts  of  honor  and  distinction.  He  strives 
to-  accumulate  property,  that  their  position  in  the  world 
may  be  better  than  his  own.  He  is  thus  a  contented  citizen. 
There  is  no  cause  of  discontent.  He  cannot  resist  the 
government,  because  it  is  his  own,  and  he  has  no  cause  of 
quarrel  with  it.  He  cannot  rebel  against  the  administration 
of  the  law.  The  functionaries,  chosen  mediately  or  imme- 
diately by  the  people,  are  but  executing  the  laws  the  people 


84  JEFFERSON    AND    HAMILTON. 

have  made,  and  can  repeal.  Privilege  is  the  preservative  of 
caste.  Superior  wealth,  talent,  information,  or  social  posi- 
tion, with  superior  political  privileges,  would  keep  a  chilling 
distance  for  ever  between  the  higher  and  lower  classes.  But 
a  community  of  privileges  and  rights,  and  the  dependence 
of  the  higher  upon  the  lower  class  for  political  elevation, 
repress  pride,  bring  equality  into  fashion,  and  prevent  the 
heart-burnings  and  jealousies  which  would  otherwise  prevail. 
It  makes  the  population  in  a  good  degree  homogeneous. 

It  is  no  answer  to  say,  that  by  restricting  suffrage  we 
might  have  better  laws.  Probably,  we  might.  But  is  it 
wiser  to  have  better  laws  or  a  better  people  ? 

Nor  is  this  principle  of  personal  freedom,  and  this  sense 
of  it,  elevating  and  redeeming  influences  only.  They  are 
also  active  and  energetic  agencies.  The  man  free,  and  stimu- 
lated to  activity,  finds  a  thousand  avenues  of  business  and 
enterprise,  that  invite  his  talents.  Instead  of  a  few  men 
thinking  for  all,  each  man  is  thinking  for  himself.  From 
passive  recipiency,  his  mind  is  awakened  to  energetic  and 
independent  action.  The  whole  nation  is  thus  aroused  ;  the 
contagious  influence  of  mind  on  mind  obtains;  and  the 
immense  volume  of  its  aggregate  thought  and  enterprise, 
starting  from  its  millions  of  streamlets,  pours  forth  its 
mighty  current.  Hence  the  advance  of  this  nation  in  all 
material  objects  ;  for  these  are  of  the  first  necessity,  and  are 
the  first  care  of  every  people  ;  and  hence  will  be,  in  due  time, 
an  equal  advance  in  other  enterprises  of  higher  mental  reach 
and  attainment.  From  this  same  larger  individuality,  has 


THE    AMERICAN    PIONEER.  85 

come  the  remarkable  contrast  between  our  people  and  all 
others.  Look  at  the  French  and  Spanish  colonies,  cooped 
up  in  little  towns,  and  sinking  to  the  level  of  the  aborigines 
around  them ;  while  the  American  pioneer,  retaining  his  in- 
dividuality and  hardy  virtues,  armed  with  his  axe  and  rifle, 
penetrates  the  forest ;  subdues  alike  the  wilderness  and  its 
inhabitants;  and, preserving  his  institutions,  draws  over  the 
new  land  the  physical  and  moral  characteristics  of  the  civi- 
lization he  left  behind  him.  And  so,  too,  in  war ;  having, 
unlike  the  common  soldier,  a  character  by  which  he  is 
identified  at  home  as  much  as  by  his  face,  and  a  self-respect 
he  would  die  rather  than  forfeit,  he  conquers  on  every  battle- 
field on  which  he  fights. 

We  do  not  say  that  these  observations  are  to  be  taken 
without  modifications ;  and  especially,  we  do  not  say  they 
apply  to  all  men,  or  to  our  own  people  even  under  all  con- 
ditions. For  we  consider  after  all,  that  the  chief  proximate 
cause  of  our  ability  to  maintain,  even  to  this  day,  republi- 
can institutions,  is,  the  facility  with  which  our  people  obtain 
the  means  of  support.  And  the  great  trial  of  the  experi- 
ment will,  in  our  judgment,  come,  when,  in  the  Northern 
Spates  especially,  a  great  and  lasting  inequality  of  fortunes 
shall  occur ;  when,  in  a  single  city,  one  man  shall  own  ten 
millions  of  money,  and  a  hundred  thousand  men  not  a  cent. 
There  will  be  no  practical  republicanism  then  ;  for,  besides 
the  evils  poverty  entails,  the  man  who  cannot  call  his  bread 
his  own,  cannot  call  his  vote  his  own.  The  extension  of  our 
territory,  and  the  consequent  cheapness  of  land,  are  the 


86  JEFFERSON    AND    HAMILTON. 

remedy,  in  part,  for  the  great  evil  of  over-crowded  popula- 
tion and  its  concomitants — social  divisions,  undue  influences 
and  class  antagonisms  ;  and,  happily,  this  evil  will  be  averted 
from  us  for  a  long  while  ;  as  long  as  our  own  land  is  cheap, 
or  our  neighbors'  accessible  ! 

We  can  trace  these  germ  principles  of  popular  rights  to 
Jefferson.  He  planted  the  seed  in  the  mind  and  heart  of 
the  nation,  and  it  produced  its  fruit  in  due  season.  No 
man's  influence  has  been  so  great  as  his  in  this  country. 
Jackson's,  though  stronger,  probably,  at  first,  had  more  of 
will  and  less  of  principle  for  its  base  ;  and,  therefore,  will 
not  be  so  lasting. 

Jefferson's  views  of  State-Rights  will  be  received  or  not 
by  the  people,  as  they  happen  to  strike  or  oppose  the  tone 
and  temper  of  the  public  mind.  Our  people,  eminently 
practical,  aggressive,  warlike,  ardent  and  impulsive,  never, 
when  in  pursuit  of  a  great  object,  stop  to  scan  logical  nice- 
ties or  solve  subtle  questions  of  political  power.  When  they 
want  a  thing,  they  mean  to  have  it,  and  have  it  at  once. 
The  public  opinion  will  mould  the  constitution  to  suit  itself. 
The  people,  if  they  had  it  not  before,  have  already  swelled 
out  the  constitution  to  be  the  representative  -.f  their  own 
character.  They  have  given  the  government  strength  enough 
to  be  terrible  in  war,  honored  in  peace,  full  of  energy,  and 
commanding  the  respect  of  all  men  ;  reserving  to  themselves 
the  right,  or  assuming  the  license,  to  beat  it  back,  if  it  should 
venture  across  the  limits  of  the  state  jurisdiction  to  attack 
any  vital  interest.  Jackson,  representing  the  heroic  and  the 


STATE-RIGHTS    DOCTRINE.  87 

energetic  of  the  American  character,  gave  the  strongest  il- 
lustration of  these  predominant  traits,  in  the  administration 
which  was  made  so  faithfully  the  organ  of  the  national  tem- 
per. 

We  think  that  the  doctrines  of  State-Rights,  though 
sometimes  ascendant,  and  seemingly  received  with  favor  in 
calm  times,  will  not  always,  or  even  often,  prevail,  when  they 
come  in  contact  with  the  impulsive  and  eager  utilitarianism 
and  impatient  wishes  of  the  people. 


CHAPTER  XL 

Jefferson's  Political  Speculations— Their  Influence— His  Death— His  Character— His 
Letters — His  Published  Correspondence — His  Ana — His  Influence  in  the  State 
and  National  Governments. 

AFTER  the  retirement  of  Jefferson  from  the  presidency,  he 
was  busy  in  consolidating  his  fame  ;  and  it  is  scarcely  too 
much  to  say,  that,  from  his  speculations  while  in  retirement, 
the  most  important  principles  of  government,  which  have 
come  since  to  be  adopted,  proceeded.  He  returned  home, 
with  a  reputation,  contrary  to  his  own  apprehension,  even 
greater  than  he  brought  to  the  presidency.  His  influence 
was  unexampled ;  and  it  must  be  acknowledged,  that  its 
last  prominent  public  manifestation  was  worthy  of  his  best 
days.  He  originated  and  carried  through  that  noble  insti- 
tution of  letters,  the  University  of  "Virginia.  Regarded 
as  a  sage  and  oracle,  as  the  apostle  of  a  new  and  freer  phi- 
losophy, men  from  all  parts  of  the  Union,  and  from  the  old 
world,  came  to  pay  him  their  homage.  And  the  youth  of  the 
land,  some  of  them  afterwards  called  to  proclaim  his  doctrines 
in  the  forum  or  the  Senate,  climbing  the  hill  of  Monticello, 
gathered  into  the  Grecian  portico  that  fronts  to  the  east, 


JEFFERSON'S  INTELLECTUAL  CHARACTER.  89 

and,  sitting  at  the  feet  of  the  American  teacher,  like  the 
disciples  of  the  old  Greek  masters,  listened,  with  reverent 
attention,  until  the  sun  went  down,  to  the  words  of  wisdom 
which  fell  from  his  lips. 

He  lived  to  see  the  influence  of  his  name  and  doctrines 
the  vital  principle  of  nearly  all  the  State  governments  of  the 
confederacy ;  the  party  he  opposed  disbanded  and  annihilat- 
ed ;  and  its  old  leaders,  his  early  rivals,  only  remembered  as 
public  enemies  defeated  by  him,  or  their  names  kept  alive  as 
hyperboles  to  illustrate  political  heresy,  corruption,  and 
tyranny. 

He  lived  to  see  the  republic  he  had  governed,  crowned 
with  the  laurels  of  a  second  war  triumphantly  closed  ;  al- 
ready advanced  to  wealth  and  power  and  a  respected  place 
in  the  family  of  nations,  and  bounding  on,  with  giant  strides, 
to  the  first  position  in  the  world  ;  and,  at  a  riper  age  than 
is  usually  allotted  to  man  he  contributed,  with  poetic  ap- 
propriateness, by  his  death,  to  the  sanctity  of  that  day  which 
his  pen  had  commemorated. 

The  intellect  of  such  a  man  deserves  a  particular  notice. 

One  of  the  largest  of  Jefferson's  faculties  was  his  power  of 
observation.  His  perceptive  faculties  were  developed  to  an 
astonishing  extent.  He  saw  and  took  cognizance  of  every 
thing.  Nothing,  however  minute,  escaped  his  eye.  He  ob- 
served things  in  gross  and  in  detail.  He  was  an  excellent  me- 
chanist. His  fine  perception  seized,  at  once,  the  proportions 
of  physical  objects.  It  is  said  that  he  could  detect  at  a 
glance  the  disproportion  of  any  building  in  any  of  its  parts, 


90  JEFFERSON    AND    HAMILTON. 

and  he  was  pained  with  a  want  of  symmetry  or  order.  He 
had  an  excellent  head  for  business.  He  was  familiar  with 
its  details.  He  had  system,  order,  form,  number,  and  all 
those  valuable  aids  to  the  higher  intellect,  which  these  and 
the  other  lower  faculties  furnish.  He  kept  and  preserved 
papers  with  great  care,  and  could  readily  find  the  sources  of 
information.  By  these  helps,  he  was  enabled  to  accomplish 
a  great  deal  within  a  little  time,  and  at  short  notice. 

'He  was  a  ready  writer.  To  his  pen  he  is  indebted  for 
much,  indeed  the  greater  part,  of  his  reputation  and  success. 
Few  men  have  written  more.  Except  his  State  papers  he 
did  not  print  much  of  what  he  wrote  ;  [and,  perhaps,  it  had 
been  as  well,  on  the  whole,  for  his  fame,  if  his  literary  exe- 
cutors had  followed  the  same  example  of  abstinence  from  the 
press].  But  his  day  was  different  from  ours.  The  press 
was  not  then  the  powerful  engine  it  is  now.  Comparatively 
few  newspapers  were  published,  and  of  these  there  were  com- 
paratively few  readers.  The  influence  upon  the  people  was 
from  the  intelligent  few.  The  men  of  a  county  were  con- 
trolled by  the  man  of  the  county  ;  and  a  letter  from  Jeffer- 
son to  that  man,  furnished  the  ideas  and  reasonings  by  which 
this  control  was  effected  and  the  public  sentiment  moulded. 
By  his  extensive  correspondence,  he  not  only  communicated, 
but  obtained,  minute  and  reliable  information  of  the  state 
of  public  sentiment,  and  of  the  progress  of  political  move 
ments. 

We  have  said  that  he  was  a  very  able  writer.     But  the 
style  of  his  correspondence  was  not,  in  all  respects,  the  best. 


JEFFERSON'S  LETTERS.  91 

It  wanted,  in  its  earlier  exercises  especially,  freedom  and 
ease.  It  wanted  naturalness  and  grace.  It  was  not  harmo- 
nious, and  it  had  a  sprinkling  of  affectation,  especially  in  the 
use  of  gallicisms,  and  new-coined,  and  not  always  happily  in- 
vented, words  and  phrases.  There  was  something  of  antithe- 
sis, but  it  was,  for  the  most  part,  verbal,  rather  than  of  idea. 
It  had,  it  is  true,  novel  and  felicitous  turns  and  ingenious 
transpositions  ;  but  the  style  was  alluvial,  and,  we  suspect, 
originally  far  from  easy  or  fluent.  He  had  little  wit,  though 
his  shrewdness  was  sometimes  so  pat,  and  the  common  sense 
so  patent  and  vivid,  that  it  looked  like  wit.  But  the  worst 
defect  was  a  want  of  humor.  His  letters,  though  good  poli- 
tical or  other  theses,  were  not  good  letters.  The  light  in 
them  was  the  dry  light  of  intellect.  There  was  no  transfu- 
sion of  character  into  the  written  page.  The  letters  of 
Lamb,  of  Byron,  of  Wirt,  are  as  characteristic  as  their 
handwriting.  They  could  no  more  easily  be  counterfeited 
in  the  style  than  in  the  chirography.  The  thinking  in  them 
is  the  least  valuable  part.  They  are  transcripts,  delightful 
epitomes  rather,  of  their  authors  ;  as  like  the  writers,  so  far 
as  they  go,  as  their  daguerreotypes.  Any  man  with  Jeffer- 
son's sense  could  have  written  his  letters.  Indeed,  with 
slight  alterations,  they  could  have  been  turned,  at  once,  into 
state-papers  or  editorials. 

But  they  were  powerful  state  paper  missives.  They 
were  full  of  salient  points.  They  startled  and  fixed  atten- 
tion. They  left  something  to  remember.  If  rough,  it  was 
the  roughness  of  the  vice  which  better  fixed  the  grip.  He 


92  JEFFERSON    AND    HAMILTON. 

had  an  aphoristic  turn,  which  gave  a  common  thought  the 
look  of  a  profound  one  ;  and  he  had  the  rare  faculty  of  say- 
ing things  in  such  a  striking  way,  that  what  he  said  became  a 
proverb,  and  was  received  and  repeated  as  a  truism.  The 
tone  was  positive  and  oracular ;  and  the  statement  so  plaus- 
ible and  comprehensive  that  all  men  understood  it  and  most 
men  believed  it. 

Hamilton's  style  was  very  different.  It  was  easy  to 
write  and  easy  to  read.  It  was  compact,  flowing,  polished, 
musical.  The  sentences  were  well  balanced  and  gracefully 
turned.  It  was  that  sort  of  style  which  art  cannot  make, 
but  which  art  sets  off  and  adorns.  It  blended  strength  with 
beauty,  was  just  warmed  by  imagination,  only  enlivened  by 
fancy,  and  showed  the  presence  of  a  subtle  discrimination  in 
the  nice  selection  of  fitting  words  to  express  the  exact 
shade  of  thought.  It  was  adapted  to  all  uses,  like  the  ath- 
lete that  can  exhibit  agility  and  grace  in  the  dance,  or  do 
battle  with  heavy  armor,  or  carry  off  huge  burdens.  Let 
the  reader  turn  to  Hamilton's  letter  to  Laurens  on  the  ex- 
ecution of  Andre,  and  then  turn  to  some  of  his  controversial 
papers  in  reply  to  Madison,  and  verify  what  we  say.  We 
think  that  as  a  writer,  combining  all  the  various  excellen- 
cies that  give  power  and  grace  to  the  pen,  Hamilton  has 
scarcely  had  an  equal  on  the  continent.  Not  that  he  was 
probably  as  effective  as  Jefferson  with  the  masses.  Neither 
was  Burke  as  effective  as  Swift. 

Jefferson  had  not  much  imagination,  but  he  had  large  inven- 
tion and  mechanical  contrivance.  He  was,  therefore,  ingen- 


ELOQUENCE.  93 

ious  and  full  of  resources.  He  was  also  copious  of  compar- 
isons and  illustrations ,  but  these,  though  always  striking 
and  relevant,  were  mostly  common-place,  and  sometimes 
coarse. 

He  was  seldom  eloquent  in  the  highest  sense  of  elo- 
quence. The  Lofty,  the  Impassioned,  the  Heroic,  the  Sub- 
lime were  not  with  him  characteristic  qualities.  The  highest 
eloquence  is  the  demonstration  of  the  heroic.  Such  eloquence 
is,  at  last,  but  the  self-manifestation  of  the  heroic  spirit,  in 
its  highest  form.  All  heroic  minds  are  thus  eloquent,  when- 
ever the  qualities  that  make  them  heroic  are  aroused  and 
called  into  vigorous  action.  Eloquence,  as  Mr.  Webster  re- 
marks, is  of  the  man.  It  is  rather  the  spirit  of  the  man  in 
operation.  When  such  a  soul  acts,  it  is  eloquent  in  deeds ; 
when  it  speaks,  it  is  eloquent  in  words.  Chatham  and  Mira- 
beau,  Demosthenes,  Henry,  Jackson,  Clay,  Calhoun  alone  in 
the  Senate  opposing  the  Mexican  war,  and  Washington  when 
aroused,  as  on  the  field  of  Monmouth,  possessed  this  elo- 
quence in  an  eminent  degree ;  and  when  it  is  called  into  ex- 
ercise, common  greatness  shrinks  appalled  and  cowed  before 
its  imperial  authority.  It  is  the  rarest  and  most  infallible 
of  the  gifts  and  marks  of  greatness ;  for  it  displays,  in  a 
burst  of  passionate  energy,  the  highest  properties  of  man — 
great  will,  great  courage,  great  intellect — the  forces  that 
command  and  subdue  mankind.  But  for  that  other  elo- 
quence, which  furnishes  matter  for  convincing  and  persuad- 
ing men  to  adopt  our  views  or  our  projects,  Jefferson  may 
be  accounted  one  of  the  first  men  of  his  age,  as  he  was  assur- 


94  JEFFERSON    AND    HAMILTON. 

edly  the  most  efficient  in  supplying  the  comprehensive 
texts  and  doctrinal  axioms,  which  speakers  and  writers  of 
smaller  calibre  elaborated  into  popular  essays  and  speeches. 
We  come  now  to  the  quality  which,  we  think,  gave  this 
illustrious  personage  his  greatest  efficiency,  while,  we  con- 
ceive, it  narrowed  and  marred  his  judgment.  It  was  a 
faculty  of  mental  exaggeration.  Like  all  reformers,  Jeffer- 
son was  an  enthusiast.  Enthusiasm  necessarily  heightens 
the  colors  of  the  objects  upon  which  it  glows.  It  is  the  pro- 
perty essential  to  success.  It  gives  triumph  to  the  artist, 
the  artisan,  the  advocate,  the  soldier,  the  orator,  the 
statesman.  Nelson,  Jackson,  Clay,  all  had  it.  It  is  not 
always  associated  with  the  divine  faculty  of  poetry  or 
ideality.  It  is  found  in  the  most  prosaic  natures.  It  is 
scarcely  stronger  in  the  raving  poet  glowing  in  his  garret 
over  his  aborted  poem,  than  in  the  cool  Yankee  tinkering 
upon  his  patent  machine.  It  is  especially  the  companion  of 
invention  and  original  intellect.  It  comes  from  a  concen- 
tration of  all  thoughts,  feelings,  desires,  in  short  of  the 
whole  mind  and  heart,  upon  the  one  object.  That  object 
becomes  a  world  to  him,  The  different  parcels  of  the 
scheme  expand  into  great  departments  ;  the  accessories  spread 
out  into  immense  provinces.  The  eye,  fixed  on  these 
things,  grows  microscopic.  Great  mountains  loom  up  from 
mole  hills ;  awful  tempests  blow  in  zephyrs ;  a  prodigious 
storm  rages  in  the  teapot.  All  outside  objects  that  ap- 
proach the  business  in  hand  take  their  color  from  the  mind 
of  the  projector ;  as  all  physical  nature  its  hue  from  the  sun. 


JEFFERSON'S  ENTHUSIASM.  95 

Jefferson  thought  himself  called  to  a  mission.  He  had 
a  great  work  to  do.  He  was  to  be  the  founder  of  a  creed,  as 
lasting  as  the  race  it  was  to  bless.  He  was  to  be  "  The 
Apostle  of  Liberty."  From  Mahomet  to  Louis  Napoleon, 
these  founders  of  creeds  and  dynasties  have  carried  with 
them  a  conviction  of  their  destiny,  almost  as  vivid  as  a 
consciousness  of  inspiration.  Whether  Jefferson,  natural- 
ly prone  to  reject  every  thing  savoring  of  superstition,  had 
any  such  sense  of  a  divine  commission,  we  do  not  know ; 
but  his  sanguine  temper  and  implicit  confidence  in  the 
people  supplied  very  well  the  want  of  it. 

To  such  men,  all  opposition  is  irksome,  and  all  minor 
matters  subservient  to  the  great  end  to  be  attained.  Every 
thing  conducive  to  the  end  is  important ;  all  men,  however 
unworthy,  who  aid  in  it,  welcome  and  respected;  all  who 
oppose,  suspicious  and  dangerous  enemies  to  the  state. 

To  this  partisan  bias  and  one-sidedness ,  we  trace  the 
earnestness  and  zeal  of  Jefferson.  The  advocate  exaggera- 
tion, which  proves  so  powerful  an  influence  at  the  bar  and 
on  the  hustings,  to  be  effectual,  must  be  realized  by  the 
min4  that  employs  it ;  for  deception  comes  most  effectually 
from  a  man  himself  deceived. 

It  was  this  trait  in  Jefferson  that  transformed  the  harm- 
less levees  of  Washington  into  the  "  forms,"  while  the  Fe- 
deral measures  of  Hamilton  were  "  the  substance,  of  the 
British  constitution ; "  the  celebration  of  Washington's 
birthday  was  a  fearful  fore-shadowing  of  monarchy  ;  Adams 
was  a  monocrat,  essaying  to  bring  the  country  over  to  the 


96  JEFFERSON    AND    HAMILTON. 

British  forms  ;  Hamilton  was  not  only  a  monarchist,  but  for 
a  monarchy  bottomed  on  corruption ;  the  legislature  was 
being  bought  up  like  cattle  by  Hamilton ;  Shay's  rebellion 
was  something  little  short  of  praiseworthy ;  the  Whiskey 
Boys'  emeute  a  mere  frolic  which  the  government  was  mak- 
ing itself  ridiculous  by  sending  out  an  army  to  put  down ; 
the  judiciary  was  one  of  the  most  dangerous  departments 
to  civil  liberty,  and  this,  at  a  time  when  Georgia  was  shak- 
ing her  fist  in  the  face  of  the  Supreme  Court ;  and  the  Fed- 
eralists were  monarchists,  seeking  an  alliance,  on  humiliat- 
ing terms,  with  England.  The  opposition  to  a  navy,  as  anti- 
republican  ;  the  project  of  bringing  the  judiciary  into  sub- 
serviency to  the  people ;  the  notion  that  all  men  are  capa- 
ble of  self-government ;  the  doctrine  that  one  generation  can- 
not bind  another  to  the  payment  of  a  debt ;  the  moral  legal- 
ity of  lotteries  ;  the  ascribing  to  Burr  the  design  of  separat- 
ing the  Western  States  from  the  Union,  and  adding  them 
to  the  Mexican  country,  in  order  then  to  found  a  monarchy 
over  the  whole  ! — the  charge  against  the  Presbyterians,  that 
they  were  "  panting  to  establish  an  inquisition  ;"  the  charge 
that  the  religious  sects  wished  a  connection  between  church 
and  state ;  the  accusation  against  the  Federalists  that  they 
sided  with  Burr  on  his  impeachment,  wished  him  success 
in  his  imputed  treason,  and  would  have  joined  him,  if  the 
prospect  was  favorable,  in  order  to  subvert  the  government 
and,  in  its  place,  establish  their  beloved  project*  of  British 
Monarchy ;  all  these,  and  many  more  that  might  be  added, 
are  evidences  of  the  extreme  opinions  which  this  state  of 


JEFFERSON'S    EXTREME   NOTIONS.  97 

mind  generated,  and  of  the  influence  of  prejudice  over  an 
original  and  powerful  understanding. 

To  the  same  influence  may  be  attributed  the  coarse  and 
gross  injustice,  which  he  did  his  contemporaries  and  others. 
Washington,  though  honest,  was  suborned  to  the  arts  and 
controlled  by  Hamilton  &  Co.,  and  had  not  sense  enough  to 
see  that  he  was  made  a  tool  of ;  Hamilton  was  the  embodi- 
ment of  political  villainy  and  heresy ;  Adams,  by  turns 
praised  up  in  the  letters  to  himself,  and  denounced  in  the 
letters  to  others  ;  Knox,  the  friend  and  companion  of  Wash- 
ington, "  a  blabbing  fool ;  "  Edmund  Randolph,  vacillating 
and  double-minded ;  Napoleon,  a  general,  but  without 
talent,  information  or  statesmanship  ;  John  Marshall,  a 
mountebank  and  trickster,  and  a  corrupt  judge,  worthy  of 
impeachment ;  Luther  Martin,  a  co-conspirator  of  Burr  and 
worthy  of  being  indicted  with  him,  ["  it  would  at  least  muz- 
zle the  impudent  Federal  bull-dog  "]  ;  General  Henry  Lee, 
an  eavesdropper,  or  something  like  one,  "  sifting  the  conver- 
sation of  his  (J's)  table,"  and  repeating  with  falsehoods,  what 
he  heard  there  ;  Paul,  the  Corypheus  of  rogues  and  roguery  ; 
some  of  the  religious  women  of  Richmond  attending  "  pray- 
ing parties  in  company  with  a  hen-pecked  husband,"  and 
addressing  the  Saviour  in  terms  so  amatory  that  they  might 
be  supposed  to  be  addressed  to  an  earthly  lover ;  and  that 
Jay  and  Hamilton  sought  by  means  of  the  treaty  with  Eng- 
land, to  undermine  the  government.  We  have  given  these 
criminations,  as  we  found  them,  on  casting  our  eyes  through 
Jefferson's  correspondence,  and  might  add,  we  doubt  not, 
5 


98  JEFFERSON    AND    HAMILTON. 

many  more ;  but  what  we  have  given  are,  we  think,  amply 
sufficient  for  the  illustration  of  our  remark. 

And  yet  the  deduction  which  these  facts  would  seem,  at 
first,  to  warrant,  that  Jefferson  was  characteristically  a  ma- 
lignant man,  would  do  his  memory  great  injustice.  All  who 
have  known  him  agree,  that  he  was  a  kind  neighbor,  and 
amiable  in  all  the  relations  of  private  life.  He  appeared  in 
social  intercourse,  to  be  singularly  free  from  harshness  and 
asperity.  He  was  charitable  to  the  poor,  courteous  to  all 
men,  ever  ready  to  do  a  kindness  or  a  service.  He  was 
generous  and  hospitable,  beloved  by  his  neighbors,  a  merci- 
ful and  lenient  master,  attentive  to  the  wants  of  his  servants 
and  solicitous  of  their  comfort,  even  at  the  sacrifice  of  his 
pecuniary  interests.  He  had  many  devoted  friends,  men 
as  independent  as  himself,  and  capable  of  estimating 
character  at  its  true  value,  and  whose  friendship  could  not 
be  won  by  mere  position  or  talent.  He  was,  in  a  marked 
degree,  the  friend  of  young  men,  taking  pains  to  serve, 
instruct  and  advance  them  ;  and  he  did  numberless  acts  of 
disinterested  kindness,  for  which  he  claimed  no  credit,  and 
could  have  expected  no  recompense.  No  man  can  play  the 
hypocrite  in  his  own  household,  and  for  a  whole  lifetime, 
among  the  daily  observers  of  his  life.  It  were  easier  to  be 
what  he  seemed,  than  to  have  seemed,  against  all  his  natural 
inclinations,  to  be,  for  all  this  time,  what  he  was  not.  Be- 
sides, his  public  course,  especially  in  all  those  parts  of  it 
the  least  probable  of  success,  show  him  to  have  had  at  heart 
the  happiness  of  his  fellow-men.  But  all  this  general  phi- 


JEFFERSON'S  CORRESPONDENCE.  99 

lanthropy  is  not  inconsistent  with  the  fact  of  particular 
enmities.  We  may  observe  briefly  then,  in  half-defence, 
that  politicians,  beyond  all  men  except  play-actors  and 
lovers,  indulge  in  bitterness  of  rivalry  and  invective,  and 
are  most  restive  under  opposition.  There  was  much  to  ex- 
cite this  feeling  in  the  high  party  times  through  which  Jef- 
ferson passed.  The  principles  were  important.  Great  re- 
sults hung  upon  public  measures.  He  was  assailed  with  in- 
tense bitterness.  Moreover,  it  must  be  remembered,  that 
these  obnoxious  passages  in  Jefferson's  letters  were  not 
published  by  Jefferson  himself,  nor,  probably,  intended  by 
him  for  the  public  eye ;  and  that  there  is  much  difference 
between  a  declaration  which  a  man  makes  to  his  friends, 
especially  in  the  heat  of  momentary  feeling,  but  little  if  at 
all  influencing  their  opinions — forgotten,  on  both  sides,  pos- 
sibly, as  soon  as  written  and  read — and  a  public  assault, 
wantonly  insulting  the  feelings,  and  wounding  the  reputation 
of  others.  "When  we  add,  that  the  friends  of  Jefferson 
have  exposed  nearly  his  whole  correspondence  to  the  world, 
and  have  reserved  scarcely  any  thing  of  his  expressed  feel- 
ings or  sentiments  for  the  privacy  of  friendship  or  of  the 
grave  (and  what  man  could  stand  such  an  ordeal)  ?  we  have 
said  all  that  occurs  to  us  in  mitigation  of  exposures,  which, 
we  confess,  we  do  not  think  can  be  fully  defended. 

We  think  it  a  misfortune  to  Jefferson's  memory  that  his 
correspondence,  at  least  in  its  present  shape,  has  been  pub- 
lished. Besides  furnishiDg  to  his  enemies  an  arsenal  of 
Weapons  for  offensive  warfare  against  his  character  as  a  man 


100  JEFFERSON    AND    HAMILTON. 

and  a  statesman ;  and  besides  the  injustice  done  to  others 
by  this  fossilizing  of  these  seepings  of  party  prejudice  and 
personal  resentment;  besides  these  objections  to  this  whole- 
sale and  unsorted  publication,  it  must  necessarily  happen,  in 
such  a  mass  of  speculation  as  Jefferson  was  daily  in  the 
habit  of  making  on  all  subjects,  that  much  that  was  crude, 
and  much  that  was  partial,  in  thought  and  expression,  would 
come  out.  And,  even  apart  from  this  view,  it  were  better 
for  such  a  man  not  to  be  too  familiarly  known.  There  was 
no  danger  of  his  being  forgotten.  He  had  left  enough  al- 
ready to  justify  and  to  support  through  all  time,  the  renown 
he  had  won.  He  stood  so  high  that  there  was  little  hope  of 
adding  to  his  fame ;  and  most  of  this  new  matter  was  of  no 
essential  service  to  the  world ;  at  any  rate,  such  parts  of  it 
as  were  of  permanent  use,  could  easily  have  been  selected, 
and  the  rest  ought  to  have  been  omitted. 

A  great  man  is  best  seen  in  his  great  works.  Romance 
is  a  maid  of  the  mist ;  and  we  all  have  something  of  the  ro- 
mantic with  which  we  surround  the  illustrious  men  of  the 
past.  A  man  seen  through  the  haze  is  a  larger  man  for  the 
haze.  A  familiar  approach  removes  the  illusion.  When  we 
come  near  great  men,  we  see  other  things  than  the  great 
parts,  which,  like  mountain-peaks,  at  a  distance,  we  alone  be- 
hold. Few  men  can  bear  the  scrutiny.  We  know  of  but 
one ;  and  that  one,  in  the  grand  sameness  of  his  character, 
the  nearer  you  approach,  and  the  longer  you  gaze,  like  Ni- 
agara, fills  the  mind  the  more  with  a  growing  sense  of  his 
vastness  and  sublimity. 


101 

It  is  certain,  that,  since  the  publication  of  his  corre- 
spondence, Jefferson  has  stood  less  favorably  before  his  coun- 
trymen, at  least  a  large  portion  of  them,  than  previously. 

We  have  alluded  to  what  we  considered  defects  in  the 
character  of  Jefferson — the  want  of  reverence  and  of  dig- 
nity. From  these  defects  came,  in  a  great  degree,  that  inde- 
pendence of  the  judgments  and  authority  of  the  past  which 
distinguished  him.  The  same  characteristics  produced  other 
results.  We  allude  to  those  shown  by  the  Ana.  It  is 
unfortunate  that  those  loose  memoranda  ever  saw  the  light. 
Some  of  these  notes  are  little  better  than  gossip  ;  some  of 
them  worse ;  and  none  of  them  are  of  any  great  value  as  il- 
lustrative of  the  history,  or  of  the  personages  of  the  time, 
besides  the  author,  and  not  favorably  of  him.  Bozzy  would 
scarcely  have  recorded  some  of  them.  Think  of  the  great 
philosopher  seriously  writing  how  Hamilton  and  Adams  and 
himself  dined  one  day  together,  when  Hamilton  expressed 
the  opinion  that  Julius  Caesar  was  the  greatest  man  that  ever 
lived ;  how  Hamilton  said,  on  another  occasion,  that  the 
British  government  was  bettered  by  its  corruptions,  solemn 
affidavit  being  prefixed  to  this  account  of  the  matter  ;  how  a 
Mr.  Butler  told  him  that,  at  some  dinner-table  in  New  York, 
Hamilton  declared,  there  was  no  stability  in  any  kind  of 
government  but  a  monarchy ;  that  Mr.  Lawrence  took  up 
the  subject,  and  he  and  Hamilton  had  a  pretty  stiff  quarrel, 
and,  at  length,  broke  up  the  company  ;  that  it  was  suggested 
that  the  thing  should  be  confined  to  the  company,  &c. ;  how 
E.  Randolph  told  him  Lear  told  him  that  Washington  swore 


102  JEFFERSON    AND    HAMILTON. 

a  whopping  oath  when  Humphreys  entered  the  anti-room  ap- 
pointed to  receive  company  on  some  show-day,  and  cried  out, 
"The  President  of  the  United  States!"  how  Beckly  told  him 
that  Clinton  had  told  him,  that  a  circular  letter  of  Hamil- 
ton's, favoring  monarchy,  was  in  the  hands  of  some  old  mi- 
litia colonel  up  on  North  River, — "  Clinton  is  to  go  for  it  and 
will  bring  it  to  Philadelphia;  "  how  Mrs.  Knox  mano3uvred 
to  get  a  seat  by  Mrs.  Washington  on  the  sofa,  in  the  ball- 
room, at  Washington's  birthday  ball,  and  how  she  failed,  the 
sofa  being  too  short,  &c.  ;  how  Washington  got  into  a  furi- 
ous passion  in  a  cabinet  meeting,  and  swore  by  he 

would  rather  be  in  his  grave  than  in  his  present  situation, 
and  would  rather  be  on  his  farm  than  be  emperor  of  the 
world,  with  a  great  deal  more  of  such  stuff. 

But,  notwithstanding  these  weaknesses  and  imperfec- 
tions, it  is  worse  than  idle  to  deny  Jefferson's  claims  to  dis- 
tinction as  a  man  of  powerful  and  original  genius.  That  he 
committed  errors,  that  his  judgment  was  not  always  sound, 
that  his  passions  were  not  always  kept  under  the  control  of 
his  reason  and  his  conscience,  may  be  safely  conceded,  with- 
out at  all  impairing  his  claims  to  a  large  share  of  the  reason- 
able admiration  and  appreciation  of  the  world.  Posterity 
will  award  him  his  proper  place  between  the  position  assigned 
him  by  his  enemies,  and  that  given  him  by  his  idolaters. 
He  erred,  in  measures  of  government,  like  all  other  men, 
probably  not  oftener  or  more  grossly  than  any  other  great 
political  reformer  and  modern  statesman ;  not  so  often  as 
Napoleon,  Pitt,  Fox  or  Burke.  His  influence  over  the  in- 


JEFFERSON'S  POSITION  AND  INFLUENCE.  103 

tellect  of  his  party,  was  the  greatest  ever  before  wielded  by 
any  statesman  in  the  Republic,  over  the  opinions  of  his  fel- 
low-men. He  had  the  merit  of  being  before  his  times.  He 
was  one  of  the  earliest  and  most  steadfast  champions  of 
popular  doctrines.  He  started  the  age  onward  in  a  new  and 
fresher  career.  He  spread  over  the  land,  in  its  length  and 
breadth,  an  awakening,  more  inquisitive,  and  a  freer  spirit ; 
and  those  ideas,  like  all  received  truths,  have  worked  them- 
selves into  the  character  and  produced  fruits  in  the  life.  Let 
the  reader  turn  to  the  proceedings  of  the  convention  that 
framed  the  Constitution,  and  then  turn  to  the  proceedings 
and  speeches  in  any  constitution-making  assembly  since  Jef- 
ferson's time,  and  mark  the  difference  between  the  tone  of 
that  body  and  of  those  that  have  succeeded  it. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  refer  to  particular  measures  to  show 
what  a  great  man  is  or  has  done.  The  influence  of  the  whole 
life  and  character  is  the  criterion.  This  is  to  be  found  in 
his  case  in  the  Republican  spirit  he  aroused  and  emancipat- 
ed, and  set  at  work ;  and  this  spirit  moulds  the  constitutions 
and  laws  as  (if  the  phrenologists  be  right)  the  brain  moulds 
the  skull.  Even  some  of  those  projects  which  were  thought 
crotchets  have  gone  into  effect,  in  our  day,  and  enter  into 
the  plan  of  government ;  and,  probably,  others,  now  laughed 
at  and  despised  as  empty  vagaries,  will  yet  be  worked  into 
the  frames  of  our  constitutions. 

From  his  single  influence  and  teachings,  have  come  the 
schemes  of  the  constitutions  of  almost  every  State  in  the 
Union  ;  the  constitution  of  his  own  being,  with  a  single  par- 


104  JEFFERSON    AND    HAMILTON. 

tial  exception  (the  division  of  counties  into  wards),  accord 
ing  to  the  plan  he  advised  thirty  years  ago.  And  the  Fed- 
eral government,  if  not  always  conducted  according  to  his 
principles,  has  been  administered,  since  his  elevation,  in  their 
name  and  in  professed  obedience  to  them. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Jefferson  as  a  Popular  Leader— His  Inconsistencies— His  Eecord  of  Private  Con- 
versations— Professor  Tucker's  Life  of  Jefferson — His  Conduct  in  Burr's  Trial — 
In  the  Impeachment  of  Judge  Chase— His  Sensibility  to  Slander— His  Opinion  of 
Newspapers. 

THE  extreme  bitterness  with  which  Jefferson  was  assailed  by 
the  Federal  party,  was  partly  political  and  partly  personal. 
He  was  regarded  with  suspicion  and  with  aversion.  He  was 
charged  with  insincerity,  indirection  and  intrigue.  He  was, 
also,  denounced  as  a  demagogue.  The  spirit  of  the  age  was 
bold  and  heroic.  It  was  marked  by  deeds  of  daring  and 
chivalry.  The  virtues  of  the  soldier,  as  in  all  times  of 
danger,  were  peculiarly  honored.  Jefferson,  though  prob- 
ably not  deficient  in  personal  courage,  was  not  distinguished 
for  it.  He  was  eminently  a  politician,  and  pursued  the  arts 
and  precautions  which  win  party  success,  and  hold  the  fruits 
of  victory.  Though  bold  in  speculation,  he  was  not  bold  in 
personal  bearing.  He  had  not  the  self-confidence  and  soldierly 
carriage  of  the  camp.  It  must  be  remembered,  too,  that  the 
Revolution  found,  and  did  not  destroy,  that  broad  social 

5* 


106  JEFFERSON    AND    HAMILTON. 

distinction,  which  then,  much  more  than  now,  existed  be- 
tween the  common  people  (the  masses)  and  the  gentry.  In- 
deed, a  state  of  war  necessarily  fosters  caste,  and  widens  the 
distance  between  the  officer  and  the  private;  the  gentleman  and 
the  plebeian.  There  existed,  too,  an  esprit  du  corps  in  the 
army,  which  discriminated  invidiously  between  the  hero  and 
the  politician.  There  was  nothing  of  hauteur  about  Jeffer- 
son.  There  was  no  foolish  family  pride,  or  pride  of  place  or 
talent.  He  justly  considered  such  pride  a  weakness.  His 
sympathies  were  really  with  the  people.  He  had  associated 
much  and  intimately  with  them.  He  had  found,  as  any  one 
will  find  who  makes  the  experiment,  under  rude  exteriors, 
sterling  qualities,  denied  sometimes  to  more  cultivated  in- 
tellects and  refined  manners ;  and  more  real  intelligence  and 
good  sense,  than  aristocratic  pride  ascribes  to  the  masses. 
Jefferson  was  wonderfully  endowed  with  the  politician's  ef- 
fective faculty  of  adaptation.  This  constituted  the  great 
charm  of  his  manners.  He  knew  men  well.  His  penetra- 
tive curiosity  made  him  acquainted,  not  only  with  individual 
men,  but  with  societies,  and  with  every  branch  of  business, 
in  all  its  details.  He  could  easily  interest  himself  in  com- 
mon topics  ;  and  it  was  no  condescension  with  him  to  con- 
duct a  conversation  on  any  subject  connected  with  agricul- 
ture or  the  mechanic  arts.  He  was  exceedingly  easy  of 
access.  He  drew  men  easily,  and  retained  them  without 
embarrassment  to  him  or  them.  His  mind  was  cast  in  a 
popular  shape.  Though  his  tastes  were  a  little  Gallicised, 
they  were,  for  the  most  part,  simple  and  healthy.  There 


JEFFERSON    A    PEOPLE'S    MAN.  107 

was  nothing  in  his  manners  finikin  or  Frenchified,  as  we  un- 
derstand the  term ;  and  his  intellect,  though  speculative,  was 
not  refined,  but  rather  coarse-grained  and  homely  in  its 
structure,  as  was  the  dress  of  his  thoughts.  Altogether,  he 
was  a  people's  man.  It  was  natural  that  he  should  pay 
them  attention.  That  attention  was  repaid  by  homage  and 
devotion.  The  very  theory  he  adopted,  of  their  supremacy 
and  title  to  it,  required  that  he  should  give  them  this  con- 
sideration. Besides,  he  looked  to  them  for  fame  and  ap- 
preciation. He  had  referred  himself  to  their  judgment  for 
his  renown,  and  relied  immediately  and  exclusively  upon 
their  support  for  power.  ft 

We  think  the  charge,  therefore,  that  he  courted  the 
people,  not  more  applicable  to  him  than  to  any  other  success- 
ful politician,  and  no  greater  evidence  of  insincerity.  The 
great  fault  of  the  Federalists,  as  party  leaders,  was,  that 
they  held  themselves  aloof  from  the  people.  If  distance  in- 
creases respect  in  some  instances,  it  begets  suspicion  and 
distrust  in  others.  In  a  republic,  it  is  folly  to  omit  those 
necessary  attentions  and  efforts  in  the  business  of  politics, 
whicli  are  essential  to  success  in  every  other  business.  The 
politician,  who  is  too  fastidious  for  contact  with  the  people, 
is  more  nice  than  wise,  and  ought  either  to  have  less  punc- 
tiliousness or  more  of  it ;  little  enough  to  make  himself  ac- 
ceptable to  the  people,  or  enough  of  it  to  keep  out  of  the 
political  ring.  Jefferson  was  a  great  political  manager,  and, 
having  popular  ideas  and  principles,  he  adopted  that  policy, 
and  put  in  motion  that  machinery,  which  were  best  adapted 


108  JEFFERSON    AND    HAMILTON. 

to  give  them  success;  and  the  same  tactics  have  been 
practised  by  the  various  parties  and  politicians  that  have  suc- 
ceeded him. 

We  have  said  that  Jefferson  was  not  consistent.  We 
do  not,  by  any  means,  attach  to  this  quality  the  importance 
attributed  to  it  by  many  others.  In  a  new  country  like 
ours,  where  every  thing  consecrated  to  unreasoning  venera- 
tion by  the  old  world,  has  been  overhauled  and  re-examined 
with  perfect  freedom  of  past  doctrines,  and  where  the  whole 
policy  and  the  interests  on  which  it  bears  are  new ;  where  so 
many  questions  are  mooted,  and  such  numberless  specula- 
tions thrown  out,  it  would  be  miraculous  if  any  statesman 
should  be  so  wise  as  to  find  no  reason  to  alter  some  of  the 
notions  he  first  conceived  of  the  government  and  its  workings. 
A  mechanist,  who  could,  a  priori,  give  the  exact  idea  of 
the  most  complex  machine,  and  could  foresee  precisely  how 
the  several  parts  would  act  and  react  under  all  circum- 
stances, and  could  tell  all  its  practical  results,  and  the  exact 
manner  of  its  most  easy  and  beneficial  management,  would 
not  show  a  higher  order  of  ability,  in  his  line,  than  the 
statesman,  who  had  been  able  to  see  at  once  the  true  nature, 
tendency  and  operation  of  our  complex  system,  and  what 
measures  were  best  adapted  to  give  it  efficacy  and  to  secure 
its  objects. 

But  Jefferson,  having  indulged  more  liberally  in  specula- 
tion, and  having  expressed  himself  more  freely,  than  anj 
other  man  of  his  time,  with  many  true  principles,  gave  out 


JEFFERSON'S  INCONSISTENCIES.  109 

more  contradictory  ideas  than  any  other  American  states- 
man has  published. 

He  started  with  opposing  the  Constitution.  His  first 
letters  show  his  dissatisfaction  in  the  strongest  terms.  He 
became  reconciled  to  it.  He  was  for  four  states  hold- 
ing off.  He  abandoned  that  idea.  He  was  in  favor  of  the 
assumption  of  the  state  debts.  He  was  afterwards  oppos- 
ed to  this,  and  says  Hamilton  tricked  him  into  the  project. 
As  it  was  a  public  question,  to  be  solved  on  public  and 
general  grounds,  we  do  not  see  why  he  could  not  have  decid- 
ed it  as  well  as  Hamilton. 

His  whole  administration  was,  as  we  have  shown,  in 
direct  opposition  to  the  principle  of  super-strict  con- 
struction, upon  which  he  organized  opposition  to  the 
Federal  party.  Professor  George  Tucker,  who  can  scarcely 
be  suspected  of  prejudice  against  Jefferson,  admits  this,  at 
least  as  to  several  of  the  measures  of  his  administration. 
He  announced  the  doctrine  of  Nullification  in  his  Kentucky 
Resolutions.  But,  even  under  the  Articles  of  Confederation, 
so  low  an  estimate  did  he  place  on  state-rights,  that  he  de- 
clared the  government  would  never  get  along  until  "  the  con* 
federation  showed  its  teeth,"  and  administered  chastisement 
to  one  or  more  recusant  states.  In  the  factious  proceedings  of 
the  N.  E.  States  (of  which  J.  Q.  Adams  gave  him  particular 
information),  taken  with  a  view  to  secede,  he  pronounces  the 
design  treason ;  which  it  certainly  was  not,  if  a  state  has 
the  right  to  secede  at  pleasure,  or  even  in  order  to  escape 
from  an  unconstitutional  law,  she  being  the  judge  of  such 


110  JEFFERSON    AND    HAMILTON. 

un constitutionality;  for  they  declared  the  Embargo  to  be 
unconstitutional,  and  with  some  show  of  reason  ;  by  Jeffer- 
son's own  rule  of  construction,  with  a  demonstration  of  it. 

He  wavered  to  and  fro  on  the  subject  of  the  navy  until 
he  seems,  in  his  letter  to  Adams,  not  to  have  been  himself 
aware  precisely  where  he  was.  He  seemed  to  be  not  un- 
willing to  take  the  feather,  which  Adams  offered  him  (almost 
the  only  one  left  in  his  own  cap)  of  being  the  father  and 
protector  of  the  navy ;  a  claim  to  which  he  had  about  as 
good  title  as  King  Herod,  after  his  decree,  had  to  being  the 
protector  and  father  of  the  young  children  of  his  kingdom. 
He  opposed  not  only  the  U.  S.  Bank,  but  the  establishment 
of  branches,  as  increasing  the  power,  and  duplicating  the 
financial  evils  and  the  unconstitutional  policy  of  the  institu- 
tion ;  and  yet  approved  the  bill  creating  the  Branch  at 
New  Orleans. 

He  drew,  or,  at  all  events,  approved  of,  the  ordinance  of 
1787,  inhibiting  slavery  north-west  of  the  Ohio  ;  and,  in  his 
letter  to  Mr.  Holmes,  on  the  subject  of  the  Missouri  restric- 
tion, argues  in  favor  of  permitting  slavery  to  be  extended  on 
grounds  of  policy. 

He  opposed  internal  improvements  by  the  General  Gov- 
ernment as  unconstitutional,  and  yet  approved  the  Cumber- 
land road  bill.  He  declared  the  opinion  that  the  purchase 
of  Louisiana  was  unconstitutional ;  but  negotiated  the  treaty 
and  approved  it.  At  one  time,  in  his  messages,  he  speaks 
of  disunion  as  an  unmitigated  evil ;  at  another,  he  seems 


JEFFERSON'S  RECORD  OF  CONVERSATIONS.  Ill 

to  think  the  separation  of  the  states  into  two  confederacies, 
Eastern  and  Western,  as  no  evil  at  all. 

He  advocated  and  subsequently  condemned  the  protec- 
tive policy. 

And  when  we  come  to  his  opinions  of  men,  we  find  dis- 
crepancies, if  possible,  still  more  marked  and  decided.  But 
to  go  into  this  examination  would  fill  a  volume.  Indeed, 
into  such  a  state  of  inflammatory  prejudice  had  his  mind 
passed  with  regard  to  particular  individuals  and  parties,  that 
we  are  forced  to  discard  his  opinions  as  to  these  as  nearly 
worthless.  It  would  be  scarcely  more  unfair  to  take  Lord 
Byron's  "  British  Bards  and  Scotch  Reviewers  "  as  a  fair 
criticism  upon  his  literary  contemporaries,  than  to  take  Jef- 
ferson's "  correspondence  "  as  giving  a  true"  estimate  of  the 
leaders  of  the  Federal  party,  or  even  of  some  members  of 
his  own. 

Jefferson's  habit  of  recording  and  leaving  for  publication 
the  colloquial  remarks  he  heard,  and  those  of  which  he  heard, 
of  some  of  his  contemporaries,  has  been  strongly  censured. 
Professor  Tucker,  whose  "  Life  of  Jefferson  "  is  to  be  com- 
mended for  many  excellencies  of  manner  and  matter,  de- 
monstrating an  accomplished  and  powerful  intellect,  and 
abounding  in  much  learned  and  able,  and,  for  the  most  part, 
impartial  criticism  on  public  measures,  undertakes  an  inge- 
nious and  elaborate  defence  of  Jefferson  against  this  charge. 
We  think,  however,  that  the  learned  Professor  has  scarcely 
discriminated  with  his  usual  acumen,  in  his  vindication  of  his 
friend ;  and  that  the  unconscious  influence  of  his  position, 


112  JEFFERSON    AND    HAMILTON. 

political  relations,  locality  and  personal  feelings,  led  him  to 
avow  to  the  world  doctrines,  in  regard  to  the  ethics  of  private 
social  intercourse,  which,  these  disturbing  influences  with- 
drawn, he  would  have  scrupled  to  have  announced  to  his 
class  from  the  chair  of  Moral  Philosophy,  which  he  formerly 
filled  with  so  much  dignity  and  ability,  in  the  University  of 
Virginia.  We  think  it  a  sufficient  answer  to  all  the  casuis- 
try upon  this  subject,  to  say,  that,  by  the  universal  consent 
of  gentlemen,  a  private  conversation  imposes  a  silent  obliga- 
tion upon  those  who  hear  it  not  so  to  use  it  as  to  injure  the 
persons  participating  in  it  j  and,  therefore,  gentlemen  speak 
freely  under  the  idea  that  this  rule  will  be  respected.  No 
reasons  of  presumed  benefit  to  the  public  interest  in  a  given 
case — certainly  none  in  Jefferson's  instances — to  accrue 
from  disclosures  of  this  sort,  are  sufficiently  strong  to  over- 
balance the  positive  and  certain  evils  resulting  from  ignoring 
the  inviolability  of  this  principle.  The  confidence  and  free- 
dom of  social  intercourse,  and  the  peace  of  society,  are  inter- 
ested in  the  observance  of  the  rule;  for  social  correspondence 
would  be  an  evil,  instead  of  a  blessing,  if  every  man  were  a 
spy  upon  his  fellow;  and  if  it  were  understood,  that,  as  soon 
as  the  host  had  disengaged  his  hand  from  the  embrace  of  his 
guest's,  his  pen  was  to  be  employed  in  writing  down,  for  the 
public,  whatever  expressions  the  guest  had  unguardedly  used 
in  a  free  and  friendly  conversation.  Besides,  these  expres- 
sions, whether  of  opinion  or  otherwise,  are  usually  nearly 
worthless  to  the  public,  for  any  good  purpose.  A  full  ac- 
count is  not  given  of  the  whole  conversation,  or  of  sur- 


113 

rounding  and  germain  matter ;  there  is  no  cross  examina- 
tion ;  no  room  for  explanation ;  no  chance  of  denial  or  cor- 
rection by  the  parties  criminated ;  and  then,  consider  the 
great  temptation  to  overstatement ;  the  liability  to  mistake 
in  hearing,  or  understanding,  or  reporting ;  of  which,  there 
can  be  no  better  illustration  than  the  positive  denial  by  two 
of  Jefferson's  alleged  informants  (in  the  United  States  Sen- 
ate) of  facts  reported  by  him,  as  communicated  to  him  by 
them,  and  recorded  in  the  Ana.  And,  even  if  we  were  as- 
sured of  an  entirely  accurate  report,  we  know  that  men's 
opinions,  when  spoken  over  their  wine — often  unpremedita- 
ted, often  in  the  heat  of  disputation,  sometimes  from  love  of 
dogmatism  or  casuistry  (as  Dr.  Johnson's)  sometimes  in 
mockery  and  satire,  often  in  jest,  and  always  without  a  sense 
of  responsibility — are  far  from  being  invariably  represented 
by  their  dinner-table  observations.  What  a  mess  of  opin- 
ions Boswell  has  made  up  for  the  illustrious  moralist ! 

But  Jefferson  himself  answers  his  biographer.  In  his 
letter  to  Washington,  he  stigmatizes  the  conduct  of  Gen. 
Lee  as /that  of  one  "  dirtily  engaged  in  sifting  the  conversa- 
tions of  his  table  ;  "  and,  we  suppose,  there  can  be  no  moral 
distinction  between  the  sifting  of  these  conversations  by  the 
host  and  the  sifting  of  them  by  the  guest. 

Upon  another  subject  Mr.  Tucker  is  more  impartial.  We 
speak  of  the  conduct  of  Jefferson  in  connection  with  the  trial 
of  Burr.  Mr.  Tucker  disapproves  of  this  conduct,  though 
he  speaks,  from  tenderness  to  the  character  of  his  illustrious 
subject,  more  in  a  tone  of  regret  than  condemnation.  We 


114  JEFFERSON    AND    HAMILTON. 

see  no  use  of  squeamishness  or  of  false  sentimentality,  in  re- 
ference to  matters  of  official  conduct,  towards  one  who  sets 
so  bold  an  example  of  free  and  unmitigated  censure  of  the 
acts  of  others.  The  interference  of  Jefferson  in  the  trial  at 
all,  was  wholly  unauthorized  and  officious.  He  had  a  right 
to  put  down  Burr's  projects,  and  was  bound  to  bring  Burr  to 
trial.  He  was  right  in  seeing  that  the  government  was  ably 
represented.  This  was  the  business  of  the  Executive. 
After  the  court  took  cognizance  of  the  case,  the  proceedings 
belonged  to  the  judicial  department.  It  was  an  invasion  of 
the  judiciary,  and  a  most  dangerous  one,  for  the  President 
to  interfere  in  the  trial.  The  President  held  in  his  hand 
the  pardoning  power.  He  should  have  kept  himself  aloof 
from  the  public  excitement,  and  have  preserved  a  judicial 
impartiality,  in  order  to  exercise  that  power,  in  case  he  was 
called  upon  to  exert  it,  without  prejudice.  He  should  not 
have  been  closeted  with  the  witnesses  of  the  government. 
He  should  not  have  been  the  prosecutor,  and  more  especially, 
such  a  prosecutor,  carrying  zeal  to  intemperance,  and  intem- 
perance to  the  rankest  injustice  and  coarsest  criminations  of 
the  court  and  others  connected  with  the  cause.  To  bring 
Executive  power  to  bear  upon  a  prisoner ;  to  let  loose  upon 
his  head  the  influence  of  the  patronage  and  placemen  of  the 
government,  was  to  revive  the  worst  judicial  scenes  of  the 
days  of  the  Tudors  and  the  Stuarts.  It  were  better  that  any 
criminal  escaped,  however  guilty,  than  that  he  should  be 
thus  convicted ;  for  the  danger  of  immunity  to  crime,  from 
the  example  of  a  malefactor's  escape,  is  nothing  to  the  dan- 


AARON    BURR.  115 

ger  of  destroying  the  principle  of  personal   freedom,  for 
which  all  law  was  made. 

We  have  no  sympathy  with  Burr.  He  was  guilty, ' 
doubtless,  of  some  crime,  for  which  he  deserved  punishment. 
We  doubt  if  it  were  treason.  We  incline  to  think  he  was 
only  a  Fillibuster,  in  times  so  unsophisticated,  that  to  be  a 
Fillibuster  was  not  to  be  a  hero  fighting  under  the  commis- 
sion of  "  Manifest  Destiny."  Out  upon  him  !  Let  him  fester 
and  rot  in  his  infamy !  A  man  whose  hand,  yet  wet  with 
the  blood  of  such  a  man  as  Hamilton,  could  write,  from  his 
skulking  place,  to  his  daughter,  that,  if  she  had  an  ennuyant 
lover,  to  advise  him  to  try,  as  a  relief,  a  liaison  or  a  duel, 
was  fit,  without  other  crimes,  for  the  execration  he  received. 
But  he  was  an  American  citizen.  He  was  covered  by  the 
shield  of  the  constitution.  He  was  entitled  to  a  fair  trial. 
If  there  was  enough  of  manhood  in  him  for  him  to  be  tried 
at  all,  there  was  enough  to  entitle  him  to  be  tried  according 
to  law,  surrounded  by  its  safeguards,  and  in  the  light  of  all 
of  its  presumptions  and  merciful  intendments.  The  sug- 
gestion pf  the  President  in  his  letter  to  Hay,  that  Luther 
Martin,  the  counsel  of  Burr,  should  be  indicted  as  an  accom- 
plice, as  one  effect  of  indicting  him  would  be  to  "  muzzle 
that  impudent  Federal  bull-dog,"  is  a  fearful  commentary 
upon  all  the  texts  that  Jefferson  preached  of  the  jealousy 
and  vigilance  with  which  men  in  power  should  be  regarded. 
There  is  no  other  commentary  so  strong  in  the  annals  of  the 
government. 

Th*  impeachment  of  Judge  Chase  was  another  act  of 


116  JEFFERSON    AND    HAMILTON. 

party  intemperance  and  prejudice,  which  stains  the  otherwise 
placable  character  of  the  Republican  party  after  their  tri- 
•umph.  The  causes  of  complaint,  that  he  had  ordered  a  ca- 
pias instead  of  a  summons  (which  would  have  been  but  an 
invitation  to  the  prisoner  to  leave)  in  the  case  of  Callender ; 
that  he  had  "  prejudged  the  law  "  of  the  case  in  the  trial  of 
Fries  ! — that  he  refused  to  permit  the  counsel  to  argue  to  the 
jury  the  constitutionality  of  the  Sedition  law ;  that  he  in- 
terrupted Mr.  Wirt's  argument  by  telling  him  that  it  was  a 
non  sequitur ;  that  he  refused  to  put  off  Callender's  trial  on 
some  lying  affidavit ; — these  grave  matters  kept  the  High 
Court  of  Impeachment  in  session  for  many  long  months,  at 
an  enormous  expense  of  money  and  eloquence.  It  is  but 
just  to  the  Senate  to  say,  that  it  acted  with  sense  and  dig- 
nity, and  rejected  the  charges.  Luther  Martin  made  the 
prosecution  a  sufficient  punishment  of  its  authors ;  for  he 
improved  the  occasion  to  the  utmost  to  "pulverize"  the 
charges  and  the  managers.  His  speech  in  defence  of  the 
Judge,  was  only  equalled  by  Marshall's  speech  in  the  Jona- 
than Bobbins  matter.  It  presented  nothing  to  be  answered, 
and  it  left  nothing  to  be  added. 

It  is  amusing  to  note  the  different  sentiments  and  feel- 
ings which  statesmen  manifest  towards  great  public  princi- 
ples or  institutions,  according  to  the  different  modes  in 
which  they  affect  them  personally.  We  have  shown  with 
what  favor  Jefferson  regarded  Freneau's  "free  press," 
when  it  was  pouring  out  its  opposition  upon  the  first  admin- 
istration, and  its  lampoons  on  the  President ;  with  what  for- 


WASHINGTON  AND  FRENEAU.  117 

titude  he  bore  the  inflictions  upon  Washington's  patience 
and  sensibilities;  how  he  wondered  that  Washington  had 
lost  his  "  sangfroid,"  when  Freneau  let  loose  his  virulence ' 
upon  him  from  the  office  of  the  Secretary  of  State.  He 
seems  almost  to  chuckle  over  the  fury  of  the  old  chief,  when, 
struck  by  these  paper  pellets,  he  writhed  in  agony,  and,  un- 
able longer  to  endure  them,  his  temper  broke  the  bounds  to 
which  he  was  accustomed  to  confine  it,  and  he  gave  utter- 
ance to  that  "  tremendous  wrath  "  which,  according  to  Mr. 
Jefferson,  sometimes  possessed  the  old  hero  (as  it  did  occa- 
sionally a  later  one),  swearing  by  the  Eternal,  and  denoun- 
cing hotly  "  that  d d  rascal,  Freneau,"  who  had  sent  him 

three  copies  of  his  free  paper,  full  of  libels  on  him  and  the 
government,  with  the  modest  intimation  that  he  wished 
them  circulated  under  the  President's  frank!  Jefferson 
seems  to  have  sympathized  a  good  deal  with  Callender,  when 
under  trial  and  in  imprisonment,  for  libelling  John  Adams, 
and  to  have  been  a  subscriber  to  his  paper,  indeed  for  a 
number  of  copies,  besides  helping  him  along  with  "  material 
aid,"  in  occasional  sums  of  fifty  dollars.  But,  after  a  while, 
the  thin£  was  reversed.  The  Federal  papers  grew  as  "  viper- 
ous," probably  more  "  viperous  "  even,  than  the  Republican 
press ;  and  poured  out  black  torrents  of  fetid  ribaldry  and 
scurrility  upon  Jefferson.  His  private  business,  his  domes- 
tic relations,  every  thing  was  descanted  on.  Even  Callender 
turned  against  him,  that  "  monster  of  ingratitude,"  and  ex- 
celled even  himself  in  low  billingsgate  and  dirty  vitupera- 
tion. He  drenched  his  old  patron  with  showers  of  bilge- 


118  JEFFERSON    AND    HAMILTON. 

water  and  vitriol.  Jefferson  was  thin-skinned.  He  was 
easily  touched.  He  was  morbidly  sensitive  to  public  opin- 
ion. He  admits  that  he  suffered  more  from  a  little  censure 
than  he  enjoyed  from  a  great  deal  of  praise  ;  and  praise  had 
a  very  pleasing  relish  for  his  palate.  Indeed,  as  he  says  of 
La  Fayette,  he  had  "  a  canine  thirst  for  popularity."  He 
delighted  in  being  called  "  THE  PEOPLE'S  MAN."  He  took 
much  pleasure  in  circulating  among  them,  shaking  hands, 
inquiring  about  their  families,  crops,  and  so  forth,  and  min- 
gling with  them  in  the  frankest  manner,  on  election  days. 
It  was  his  turn  now  to  suffer.  He  did  suffer  in  the  acutest 
degree.  His  "  sangfroid  "  exhibited  itself  in  this  language 
about  that  "  Great  Palladium  of  Public  Liberty " — the 
press. 

11  It  is  a  melancholy  truth  that  a  suppression  of  the  press 
could  not  more  completely  deprive  the  nation  of  its  benefits 
than  is  done  by  its  abandoned  prostitution  to  falsehood. 
Nothing  can  now  be  believed  which  is  seen  in  a  newspaper. 
Truth  itself  becomes  suspicious  by  its  being  put  into  that 
polluted  vehicle.  *  *  *  I  will  add,  that  the  man  who 
never  looks  into  a  newspaper  is  better  informed  than  he  who 
reads  them ;  inasmuch  as  he  who  knows  nothing  is  nearer  to 
truth  than  he  whose  mind  is  filled  with  falsehoods  and  errors. 
He  who  reads  nothing,  will  still  learn  the  great  facts,  and  the 
details  are  all  false." 

This  letter  is  another  illustration  of  the  one-sidedness  to 
which  Jefferson's  mind  was  so  prone,  when  his  passions  were 
aroused.  For,  as  Mr.  Tucker  well  observes,  there  is  no  news- 


PARTY    NEWSPAPERS.  119 

paper,  however  mendaciously  conducted,  that  does  not  print 
more  truths  than  lies.  Inferences  and  speculation  are  an- 
other matter ;  but  even  as  to  these,  the  sin  usually  is  not  so 
much  that  of  false  suggestion,  as  of  suppression  and  bad 
logic  ;  and  the  whole  truth,  in  party  papers,  usually  comes 
out  when  both  sides  are  heard,  as  they  are  in  political 
discussion. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

Hamilton— His  Position,  Influence,  and  Character. 

THE  career  of  Hamilton  was  probably  the  most  brilliant  in 
America.  The  impression  he  had  made  on  the  public  policy, 
and  the  influence  he  had  exerted  over  the  history  of  his  coun- 
try, were,  his  age  considered,  as  we  have  seen,  unprecedented. 
At  thirty-five,  he  had  won  a  place  among  the  public  men  of 
the  Republic,  if  not  the  first  in  any  one  department  of  public 
and  professional  service,  certainly  the  first  in  the  aggregate 
of  distinction  in  all  these  trusts.  He  had  succeeded  emi- 
nently in  every  thing  he  had  undertaken.  He  stood,  as  a 
soldier,  next  to  Washington  ;  as  a  statesman,  equal  to  any 
other  in  ability,  and  the  first  in  influence  over  the  public 
councils  as  long  as  he  held  office ;  as  a  lawyer,  if  not  first, 
yet  in  the  first  class,  and  without  a  superior.  Nor  was  he 
remarkable  for  proficiency  or  success  only  in  particular 
branches  of  these  various  departments.  He  excelled  in  every 
branch  of  these  diverse  employments,  and  in  all  things  con- 
nected with  them,  which  could  give  efficiency  or  embellish- 
ment to  his  labors.  As  a  statesman,  his  mind  embraced  the 


HAMILTON'S  PRIVATE  CHARACTER.  121 

great  principles  of  government,  and  the  lesser  details,  not 
only  in  his  own  particular  bureau,  but  in  all  others,  and  not 
only  in  the  executive,  but  in  the  legislative  branches.  He  was 
an  eloquent  and  able  debater  ;  an  admirable  writer ;  remark- 
able alike  for  practical  judgment  and  for  executive  func- 
tions ;  as  a  lawyer,  ripe  in  learning,  bringing  comprehensive 
views  of  the  philosophy  of  the  law  to  the  aid  of  accurate 
knowledge  of  its  technical  learning,  and  affluent  in  all  those 
powers  and  accomplishments  whereby  judges  or  juries  are 
convinced  or  persuaded.  In  the  power  of  impressing  himself 
upon  his  fellow-men,  and  of  drawing  to  himself  their  affec- 
tions and  confidence,  he  was  almost  unrivalled.  Indeed  his 
enemies  sought,  in  consequence  of  the  devotion  which  was 
exhibited  to  him  in  so  many  quarters,  to  excite  against  him 
the  jealousy  of  Washington,  by  suggesting  a  precedence  to 
him,  in  the  minds  of  his  party,  over  his  chief.  In  no  small 
degree,  this  popularity  and  this  influence  were  owing  to  his 
personal  character  and  manly  virtues.  He  was,  as  Jefferson 
acknowledges,  honest,  honorable,  disinterested,  frank  and 
candid  in  all  the  relations  of  private  life  ;  but,  with  singular 
inconsistency,  his  great  rival  ascribes  to  him  sentiments  and 
practices  as  a  politician,  which  favored  and  applied  bribery 
and  corruption  as  necessary  arts  of  government.  But  we 
have  Shown  that  Jefferson's  authority  in  such  matters  cannot 
be  relied  on ;  and  we  doubt  if  such  an  anomaly  ever  did 
exist,  as  a  man  characteristically  bold  and  pure  in  private 
life,  and,  also,  systematically  corrupt  and  venal  as  a  poli- 
tician. 

6 


122  JEFFERSON    AND    HAMILTON.' 

Nor  did  the  influence  of  Hamilton  terminate  with  his 
life.  It  is  true  that  the  impression  he  left  on  the  masses 
was  not  as  strong  as  Jefferson's.  It  is  true  that  his  name  is 
not  often  quoted,  because  of  the  unpopularity  attached  to  it, 
in  part,  by  reason  of  some  of  his  principles,  and,  in  part,  by 
the  assaults  made  upon  him  by  the  Republican  party.  Yet 
the  influence  imparted  to  the  government  by  his  measures  is 
still  felt.  He  unquestionably  strengthened  the  government, 
and  gave  it  a  tone  of  dignity,  and  power  -and  respectability 
when  it  most  wanted  it,  and  which  has  survived  to  this  day 
He  turned  towards  the  people  the  government  in  that  phase 
which  it  still  retains — the  phase  of  a  government  able  to 
execute  its  laws,  and  determined  to  maintain  its  dignity; 
clothed  with  the  powers  which  enable  it  to  stand  forth  as  a 
national  government,  self-reliant  and  independent  at  once  of 
aid  and  opposition.  He  contributed  to  give  to  the  govern- 
ment the  full  measure  of  its  powers.  No  one  questions  now 
that  his  financial  system,  though  it  may  have  been  defective 
in  some  of  its  details,  raised  the  government  at  once  to  a 
position  of  honor,  and  gained  for  it  that  credit  which  it  has 
ever  since  so  pre-eminently  enjoyed.  And  from  that  credit 
and  the  public  confidence  it  established,  the  country  rose  up 
immediately  from  its  embarrassments,  and  started  forward 
in  the  career  of  enterprise  and  energy  that  soon  brought 
general  prosperity  and  contentment.  If  he  erred  in  seeking 
to  give  to  the  government  too  much  power,  it  must  be  re- 
membered that  his  enemies  erred  in  seeking  to  give  it  too 
little.  If  he  sought  to  make  the  new  government  do  too 


123 

much,  it  must  be  recollected  that  his  enemies  sought  to  pre- 
vent it  from  doing  enough  ;  and  then  it  must  not  be  forgot- 
ten that  the  measures  in  which  he  erred  failed  ;  so  that  their 
influence  is  not  felt  at  this  day  upon  the  country. 

Had  his  policy  prevailed  of  resenting  the  first  insults  of 
France  (insults,  which  it  was  left  for  Jackson,  so  many  years 
afterwards,  in  some  degree,  to  retaliate)  we  had  been  spared 
the  profound  humiliation  we  afterwards  suffered,  and  the  ne- 
cessity of  being  kicked  into  a  war  with  England,  after  our 
commerce  had  become  the  unresisting  prey  of  Britain  and 
France  upon  the  ocean,  to  the  extent  of  a  hundred  millions 
of  dollars ;  while  tke  national  honor  would  have  shone  then 
with  a  lustre  reserved  for  a  far  later  day. 

If  Hamilton  mistook,  or  was"  too  independent  to  conform 
himself  to,  the  popular  mind,  in  some  respects,  he  represented 
it  better  than  his  rival  in  others.  He  represented  the  character 
of  the  people  in  the  boldness,  energy,  and  decision  of  gov- 
ernment, when  great  questions  come  up  for  solution,  or  great 
interests  are  involved.  The  Republican  theory,  however  it 
may  accord  with  truth  in  the  abstract,  that  the  Executive  is 
to  be  looked  to  with  jealousy,  and  the  Representatives  with 
favor,  in  the  distribution  or  exercise  of  power,  we  know, 
from  the  experience  of  the  government,  is  not  practically 
acted  on  by  the  people. 

Had  Hamilton  been  President  instead  of  Adams,  it  is 
highly  probable  that  he  would  have  crushed,  at  least  for  a 
time,  the  Republican  party  ;  or  had  he  been  the  candidate 
in  the  election  of  1800,  it  is  nearly  certain  he  would  have 


124  JEFFERSON    AND    HAMILTON. 

been  elected.  The  mismanagement  of  the  campaign  by 
Adams  was  the  only  safety  of  Jefferson ;  for  the  advantages 
the  Federalists  had  got  in  the  French  difficulty,  and  the  false 
position  in  which  the  Republicans  had  placed  themselves, 
needed  only  not  to  have  been  counteracted  to  have  secured 
the  former  an  overwhelming  triumph.  Jefferson  was  elected, 
at  last,  by  a  majority  of  only  seven  votes  ;  but  once  in  power, 
his  consummate  tact  and  skill  as  a  politician,  combined  with 
other  causes,  turned  his  victory  into  a  sure  and  lasting  as- 
cendency. 

Hamilton's  influence,  though  more  of  class  than  Jeffer- 
son's, was  not  less  durable.  He  addressed  the  mercantile, 
professional,  trading,  and  military  classes,  representing  a 
great  portion  of  the  wealth  and  talent  of  the  country,  espe- 
cially of  the  commercial  cities  ;  and  in  his  own  state  he 
wielded  an  influence  and  had  a  popularity  almost  unequalled ; 
and,  strengthened  by  the  circumstances  attending  his  death, 
he  left  upon  the  minds  of  his  countrymen  an  impression  of 
his  power  and  his  worth  never  felt  since  the  death  of  Wash- 
ington. 

His  writings  have  passed  into  the  text-books  of  schools 
and  colleges  and  politicians,  and  are  quoted  as  authority  in 
senates  and  courts  of  judicature,  State  and  Federal,  supreme 
and  inferior ;  and,  not  less  for  their  reasoning  than  their 
style,  hare  become  classics  in  our  political  literature,  to  en- 
dure as  long  as  the  institutions  they  illustrate ;  while  his 
state  papers  are  model  compositions  of  their  class. 

What  destiny  might  have  awaited  him  beyond  the  great 


125 

eminence  he  had  reached,  is  only  matter  for  loose  conjecture. 
But,  as  we  have  stood  beneath  the  weeping-willow  which 
mourningly  droops  over  his  modest  tomb-stone,  in  the  cen- 
tre of  the  vast  city,  of  which,  in  its  infancy,  he  was  the  pride 
and  benefactor — (the  solemn  stillness  of  his  resting  place,  by 
the  side  of  the  great  avenue,  through  which  pours  the  fretted 
and  boisterous  streams  of  population,  noting  the  contrast 
between  the  dead  and  the  living  man) — we  have  thought, 
that  the  heroic  heart  and  massive  brain  that  moulder  there, 
could  not  have  passed  the  long  prime,  which,  in  the  course 
of  nature,  would  have  been  allotted  to  him,  without  marking 
still  more  deeply  the  lines  of  his  policy  upon  his  country, 
and  carving  more  strongly  his  own  name  upon  its  genius 
and  character.  For  such  a  nature  there  is  no  pause  and  no 
repose.  Activity  is  the  condition  of  its  charter  of  life.  The 
strong  energies  and  warm  passions,  the  fearless  and  intrepid 
temper,  the  fever  of  the  soul  thirsting  for  glory,  its  glowing 
schemes  and  conceptions  bursting  forth  irrepressibly  into  the 
life  of  action,  could  not  have  been  content  with  a  mere  law- 
yer's fame  and  work.  The  excitements  of  statesmanship, 
and  the  glittering  prizes  of  an  eager  and  exalted  ambition, 
are  the  stimulants  that  impel  and  the  rewards  that  attract 
such  a  spirit.  He  had  quaffed  too  deeply  of  the  cup  of 
power  and  renown,  to  be  content,  in  his  mid-day  heat  and 
prime,  with  a  tamer  beverage.  But  it  was  not  a  rabble  popu- 
larity which  he  sought.  He  was  prouder  even  than  vain. 
His  self-respect  kept  him  from  every  seeming  of  servility  to 
the  leaders  or  the  led.  Indeed  his  foible  was,  an  independ- 


126  JEFFERSON    AND    HAMILTON. 

ence  of  even  the  allowable  acts  of  conciliation  towards  su- 
periors and  the  people.  He  desired  that  renown  which  fol- 
lows in  the  wake  of  great  talents  and  great  services  ;  that 
fame  which  is  the  sum  of  the  intelligent  and  grateful  appre- 
ciation of  good  men ;  which  mingles  itself  with  the  lettered 
glory  of  a  free  people,  and  is  blazoned  on  its  historic  annals, 
and  on  its  monumental  measures  of  policy. 

Even  in  the  presence  of  Washington,  his  high-toned  self- 
respect  did  not  lower  its  crest ;  nor  did  he  suffer  what  he 
conceived  to  be  his  just  claims  to  be  disregarded  by  him. 
His  tone,  though  deferential  and  courtly,  was  bold  and  manly 
and  exactingly  self  appreciative,  in  his  address  and  bearing 
towards  that  chief,  when  his  own  character  and  feelings  were 
involved. 

The  duel  with  Burr  illustrates  both  the  weakness  and 
the  strength  of  Hamilton.  He  was  opposed  upon  principle 
to  duelling.  He  thought  there  were  higher  claims  upon  his 
life  than  any  Burr  could  set  up.  He  had  a  large  family 
dependent  upon  him.  His  pecuniary  affairs  were  embarrass- 
ed. Great  interests  were  confided  to  him  by  clients,  which 
must  necessarily  suffer  irreparably  by  his  death.  He  had  a 
lively  sense  of  his  importance  to  his  country,  and  of  his  re- 
sponsibility for  the  use  of  his  great  talents.  He  was  sin- 
cerely affected  towards  religion.  His  early  youth  had  been 
impressed  by  the  teachings  of  pious  parents,  and  especially 
by  the  precepts  and  example  of  his  Huguenot  mother.  As 
a  boy  he  was  remarked  for  the  purity  of  his  life,  and  the 
evidence  he  gave  at  college  of  fervid  piety  ;  and  his  respect 


HAMILTON'S  DUEL  WITH  BURR.  127 

for  religion  and  his  sense  of  its  value  returned  to  him  with 
a  renewed,  though  a  more  silent,  influence,  in  later  manhood. 
And  on  his  death-bed,  as  his  thoughts  wandered  back  to  his 
island-home  in  the  tropics,  his  halcyon  youth  rose  up  before 
him,  with  the  face  of  the  sainted  mother,  whose  meek  eyes, 
in  that  far-off  time  and  home,  looked  down  on  her  gallant 
boy,  as  softly  as  the  stars  above  them  shone  upon  the  frolic 
waves  of  the  bright  and  breathing  sea.  And  when  his  wife 
was  weeping  bitterly  at  his  bed-side,  his  consolation  was, — 
"  Remember,  Eliza,  you  are  a  Christian !  " 

Considerations  more  worldly  doubtless  had  their  weight. 
He  had  reached  the  age  when  men  take  serious  and  sober 
views  of  life  and  its  uses  ;  when  the  prurient  chivalry  of  the 
boy  has  succeeded  to  a  better  estimate  of  true  manliness. 
He  had  promised  himself  important  objects  in  the  future. 
He  did  not  wish  to  kill  Burr ;  and  he  knew  that  Burr  was 
seeking  a  pretext  to  kill  him.  Notwithstanding  these 
weighty  considerations  he  accepted  Burr's  challenge,  with 
the  premonition  that  the  event  would  be  fatal  to  himself, 
and  ;with  the  determination  that  it  should  not  'be  fatal  to  his 
foe.  He  was  proud  enough  to  derive  no  satisfaction  from 
the  applause  of  those  whom  he  did  not  esteem ;  but  he  could 
not  endure  their  scorn.  Like  the  old  Doge,  he  belonged  to 
that  proud  class,  to  whom, 

"  Dishonor's  shadow  is  a  substance, 
More  terrible  than  death  here  or  hereafter. 
Men,  whose  vice  is,  to  shrink  at  vice's  scoffing, 
And  who,  though  proof  against  all  blandishments  of  pleasure, 


128  JEFFERSON    AND    HAMILTON. 

And  all  pangs  of  pain,  are  feeble 
When  the  loved  narae  on  which  they  pinnacled 
Their  hopes  is  breathed  on  ;  jealous  as  the  eagle 
Of  her  high  aery." 

He  was  a  soldier,  and  he  could  not  bear  the  thought  of  ever 
seeming  to  be  wanting  in  the  soldier's  greatest  virtue.  He 
thought,  too,  his  future  usefulness  depended  upon  the  ac- 
ceptance of  the  challenge.  And  the  fear  of  public  opinion 
overbore  his  sense  of  right,  as  it  did  in  the  case  of  Clay. 
The  defence  of  this  moral  cowardice  by  both  is  simply  driv- 
elling. It  deceives  no  one.  It  had  been  more  candid  in  both 
to  have  said  :  We  fought  from  cowardice — from  the  fear  of 
the  scoffers. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Hamilton  and  Jefferson  Contrasted— Their  True  Greatness— Conclusion. 

WE  have  intimated  that  the  characters  of  these  celebrated 
men  were  as  marked  and  as  different  as  their  politics.  Ham- 
ilton was,  besides  the  qualities  we  have  ascribed  to  him,  frank 
to  imprudence  in  the  avowal  of  his  principles.  Either  he 
did  not  care  for  popularity,  or,  else,  he  did  not  look  to  it  as 
a  guide.  Jefferson  was  more  wary  and  circumspect.  He  had 
a  sharp  eye  to  the  popular  current,  and  a  delicate  touch  for 
the  popular  pulse.  He  was  consequently,  beyond  all  com- 
parison, the  abler  politician  and  the  safer  party  leader. 

Both  were  men  of  great  activity  and  of  great  energy, 
and  possessed  of  uncommon  physical  and  mental  capacity  for 
labor.  Jefferson's  mind  was  more  versatile  and  less  con- 
tinuous in  its  operations  than  Hamilton's.  He  was  as  busily 
occupied,  but  he  changed  his  subjects  of  labor  oftener.  His 
invention  was  busier.  He  had  more  irons  in  the  fire.  He 
turned  himself  more  readily  from  one  thing  to  another.  His 
mind  was  more  fertile  of  schemes  and  projects.  •  His  curi- 
osity led  him  to  take  cognizance  of  a  vast  variety  of  matters, 


130  JEFFERSON    AND    HAMILTON. 

political,  personal,  scientific,  theological,  agricultural,  litera- 
ry, mechanical,  indeed  of  every  sort ;  but  the  very  number 
prevented  a  profound  acquaintance  with  any,  except,  perhaps, 
those  which  more  especially  claimed  his  attention.  He  was, 
therefore,  more  intelligent  than  learned.  He  had  more  fresh- 
ness and  originality  than  Hamilton.  His  mind  had  been  cut 
loose  from  all  moorings  of  authority,  and  his  thought  expa 
tiated  over  wide  seas  of  speculation.  His  intellectual  intre- 
pidity amounted  almost  to  audacity,  but  this  was  held  in 
check  by  a  timidity  or  a  prudence,  which  made  him  cautious 
of  putting  new  schemes  or  ideas  into  the  form  of  measures. 
He  was  singularly  self-reliant  and  devoted  to  his  own  views 
and  reasonings ;  and,  though  not  consistent,  seemed  seldom 
to  know  or  acknowledge  previous  errors.  He  loved  to  gov- 
ern, and  did  the  thinking  and  planning  for  his  party,  who 
looked  up  to  him  with  singular  devotion  and  reverence. 
Without  being  the  ablest,  we  think  him  the  most  original 
and  plausible  of  his  countrymen.  His  statement,  even  when 
on  the  wrong  side,  was  better  adapted  for  popular  effect  than 
the  statement  of  almost  any  one  else  on  the  right  side.  He 
was  a  man  of  strong  prejudices  and  ardent  passions,  and 
speaking  from  these,  he  addressed,  with  the  greatest  skill  and 
power,  the  prejudices  and  passions  of  the  masses.  In  de- 
tailed and  finished  ratiocination,  in  reasonings  drawn  out  in 
artistic  form,  he  did  not  so  greatly  excel ;  but  in  rapid  and 
comprehensive  statement,  for  force,  plausibility,  acumen  and 
clearness,  he  was  unsurpassed.  He  could  not  have  sustained 
himself  in  senatorial  discussion,  written  or  oral,  against 


JEFFERSON'S  CHARACTER.  131 

Marshall,  Madison,  or  Hamilton ;  but  in  a  popular  paper,  or, 
if  he  had  cultivated  oratory,  in  a  speech,  he  would  have  made 
a  better  popular  impression  than  either.  Like  Doctor  John- 
son, it  is  said,  he  conversed  even  better  than  he  wrote.  We 
can  well  believe  it.  His  active  mind,  under  social  excite- 
ment, so  original  and  so  replete  with  information,  with  such 
versatility  and  variety,  and  so  much  tact,  made  him,  as  we 
know,  from  the  reputation  he  has  left,  one  of  the  first  con- 
versationists of  the  world. 

He  was  more  artificial  as  well  as  more  original  than  Ham- 
ilton. He  had  to  some  extent  superinduced  a  French  char- 
acter on  his  own,  or  intermixed  it  with  his  own ;  and  yet, 
with  such  tact,  that  something  of  what  seemed  artlessness, 
was  probably  art.  He  was  intensely  worldly-wise ;  and  a 
sagacious  sense  of  his  own  interest  in  what  he  regarded  the 
main  ends  of  life,  consciously  or  not,  presided  over  or  influ- 
enced most  of  his  actions.  He  needed  but  the  physical  re- 
sources and  accessories  of  Mirabeau  to  have  made  him  the 
most  marked  man  of  his  age. 

He  was  a  thorough-going  party  man,  as  much  so  as  Mr. 
Polk,  and  understood — what  no  man  on  the  other  side  knew 
— how  to  organize,  build  up,  and  consolidate  a  party. 

It  has  been  objected  to  Jefferson  that  the  measures  for 
which  he  gained  so  much  credit  with  the  people — the  statute 
for  religious  freedom,  and  the  acts  abolishing  primogeniture 
and  regulating  descents — were  called  for  by  the  times,  and 
required  as  a  necessary  adaptation  to  foregone  measures. 
But  this  is  not  true  as  to  one  of  those  measures,  for  it  was 


132  JEFFERSON    AND    HAMILTON. 

proposed  long  before  it  was  passed,  and  was  carried,  at  last, 
with  difficulty ;  and  even  if  true,  the  objection  would  only 
prove  that  it  was  a  good  blow  struck  in  good  time. 

Jefferson,  while  his  state-papers  convey  an  idea  of  great 
philanthropy  of  character  and  a  philosophic  serenity  of 
temper,  yet  discloses  in  his  correspondence  an  apparent  vin- 
dictiveness  and  prejudice  which  are  unequalled  among  his 
contemporaries.  To  some  of  these  ebullitions  we  have  allu- 
ded. These  intemperances  have  brought  down  upon  his 
memory  some  severe  strictures,  impeaching  the  fidelity  of  his 
statements,  and  the  sincerity  of  his  character  ;  some  of  which 
are  unfounded ;  some  requiring  explanation ;  and  some  de- 
fying it.  Though  no  man  could  use  more  gracefully  the 
language  of  eulogy,  he  usually  reserved  his  commendation 
for  his  party  associates  ;  while  his  liberality  towards  his  oppo- 
nents rarely  exceeded  a  very  cold  laudatory  modification  of 
very  warm  censures.  Indeed  the  whole  tone  of  his  mind 
was  partisan,  and  though  his  intellect  was  large  enough  to 
originate  and  resolve  great  ideas  and  principles,  they  were 
usually  the  ideas  and  principles  of  his  own  side.  He  regu- 
larly opposed  every  thing  on  the  opposite  side,  and  supported 
and  defended  every  thing  on  his  own. 

We  think,  on  the  whole,  that  it  must  be  acknowledged 
by  the  enemies,  personal  and  political,  of  Jefferson,  that,  to 
this  illustrious  tribune  belongs  a  niche  in  the  pantheon  of  the 
great  men,  who  have,  in  whatever  countries  or  times,  appear- 
ed upon  the  earth ;  and  that  he  must  be  classed  among 
that  small  number,  whose  names  and  genius  descend,  along 


THE   FIRST    ADMINISTRATIONS.  133 

the  course  of  generations,  as  permanent  institutions  and 
influences  in  the  world. 

But  we  think  too,  that  the  leaders  of  the  opposing  host 
were  not  worthy  of  the  odium  he  sought  to  cast  upon  them 
while  they  lived,  and  upon  their  memories  after  they  had 
died.  Accuser  and  accused — once  associates  and  compa- 
triots in  the  work  of  the  independence  of  America  and  of 
Americans — are  now  all  gone  to  the  bourne,  where  the 
mighty  events — as  we  esteem  them — of  this  mortal  life  are 
remembered,  if  remembered  at  all,  but  as  empty  pageants 
and  flitting  shadows.  The  memory  of  these  august  shades 
is  all  that  is  left  us  of  them  except  their  works ;  and  the 
fame  they  have  left  is  more  our  property  than  theirs.  And 
justice  to  ourselves  and  to  the  truth  of  history,  requires  the 
declaration,  that  a  nobler"T)and  of  patriots,  than  those,  who 
stood  around  the  first  and  second  administrations  of  the  Go- 
vernment, never  lived.  If  they  erred  about  modes  of  ad- 
ministration, theirs  was  an  honest  error ;  and,  inheriting  our 
principles  from  the  victors,  we  need  not  take  them  with  the 
incumbrance  of  their  personal  or  party  prejudices  ;  for  the 
Liberty  we  hold,  was  it  not  bequeathed  equally  by  victor 
and  vanquished  ? — by  Federalist  and  Republican  ? 

There  is  enough  of  glory  for  them  all !  Honor  to  every 
hand  that  was  raised  in  that  holy  fight !  Honor  to  every 
tongue  that  spoke  a  word  in  season  for  the  faith  !  Honor 
to  the  PEN,  that  drew  the  Declaration  which  pronounced  us 
free  !  Honor  to  the  LIPS,  afire  with  Liberty,  that  seconded 
and  supported  its  adoption  !  Honor  to  the  stainless  SWORD 


134  JEFFERSON    AND    HAMILTON. 

of  the  boy-votary^  who,  side  by  side  with  Washington, 
through  the  long  war,  strove  to  make  that  Declaration 
good !  And  honor  in  the  highest,  save  to  Grod,  to  the 
AUGUST  CHIEF  who  was  the  presiding  Grenius  over  Camp  and 
Council ;  winning  our  freedom  in  the  field  and  perpetuating 
it  in  the  cabinet ! 

At  last,  we  have  brought  our  weary  task  to  its  close. 
We  return  from  the  twilight,  which  envelopes,  in  gray  sha- 
dows, every  year  growing  thicker,  the  men  and  deeds  of  the 
HEROIC  AGE,  and  we  come  back  to  the  open  light  and  bust- 
ling activities  of  this  utilitarian  day.  We  would  fain  hope 
our  labor  has  not  been  quite  in  vain.  It  will  not  have  been, 
if  asperities,  long  indulged,  and  prejudices,  lagging  far  be- 
hind justice,  have  been  at  all  allayed  or  dissipated.  At  all 
events,  our  task,  in  part,  has  been  a  grateful  one ;  and  it 
was  meant  throughout  to  be  impartially  performed. 

We  have  stolen  out  from  the  busy  employments  of  this 
progressive  time ;  from  among  the  multitudinous  material 
objects,  which  spring  up,  in  rank  luxuriance,  around  our  free 
institutions  ;  from  the  throng  of  men,  the  scream  of  the 
engine,  the  street  roaring  with  the  tides  of  life — to  visit  the 
quiet  cemetery,  where  the  patriarchs,  the  martyrs,  and  the 
fathers  of  the  Republic  repose  ;  and,  like  "  Old  Mortality," 
with  mallet  and  chisel  in  hand,  bending  over  the  tombs  in 
pious  reverence,  have  sought  to  remove  the  moss  which  time, 
and  the  mould  which  mistake  or  calumny  have  gathered  on 
their  names. 


JOHN  RANDOLPH  OF  ROANOKE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Introduction — Garland's  Life  of  Eandolph — .John  Randolph — Public  Opinion  of  him 
—His  Birth,  Family,  Education,  and  Politics. 

AN  uncommon  interest  invests  the  character,  and  has 
settled  upon  the  memory,  of  this  eminent  personage.  This 
is  usually  the  case  with  men  of  a  peculiar  mould.  The  na- 
tural curiosity  which  seeks  acquaintance  with  the  histories 
and  qualities  of  distinguished  men,  becomes  more  keen  and 
eager,  when  the  elements  of  the  Strange  and  the  Mysterious 
enter  into  their  characters.  The  dramatic  interest  which 
enveloped  Byron,  and  which  he  communicated  to  the  dark 
heroes  of  his  romances  (impersonations  of  his  own  passions) 
is  a  witness  of  this  general  feeling  and  sentiment.  Unques- 
tionably, there  was  something  more  than  curiosity  at  the 
bottom  of  this  interest,  in  the  case  of  the  noble  lord.  Sym- 
pathy had  its  share  in  the  feeling ;  for  the  medium  of  his 


136  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

revelations  of  these  strange  and  eccentric  traits  and  devel- 
opments, was  a  voice  of  eloquence  and  of  passionate  utter- 
ance, whose  plaintive  tones,  and  whose  wild  and  daring 
freedom,  addressed  the  most  powerful  sensibilities  of  the 
heart. 

Whoever  has  seen  a  strong  man  bowed  down  beneath  the 
weight  of  a  great  affliction,  absorbed  into  oblivion  of  self  by 
a  passionate  grief,  knows  how  sublime  a  spectacle  he  pre- 
sents, and  what  sympathy  he  draws  from  the  beholders. 
The  manifestations  of  genuine  passion  are  always  more  or 
less  interesting ;  but,  when  the  whole  man  becomes  the  rep- 
resentative of  the  passion,  the  whole  life  a  prolonged  illus- 
tration of  it,  the  passion  becomes  so  pronounced,  and  so  pro- 
minent as  to  impress  on  the  mind  of  the  observer  the  most 
marked  and  lasting  influence.  Pride,  self-reliant  and  self- 
sustaining,  neither  conciliating  friendship  nor  dreading 
animosity,  asking  no  sympathy,  enduring  in  silence,  shrink- 
ing from  no  danger  or  evil,  although  it  chills  approach,  and 
offends  egotism  by  a  sort  of  silent  assumption  of  superiority, 
yet  always  draws  respect.  It  is  a  sort  of  regal  passion ;  and 
when,  not  obtrusively  nor  in  weakness,  but  in  some  indirect 
or  quasi-confidential  way,  it  discloses  its  own  grief  and  afflic- 
tion, it  mingles  with  that  feeling  of  respect  a  sentiment  of 
human  tenderness  and  kindness  for  a  brother  man,  under  the 
sufferings  of  our  common  nature. 

Mr.  Garland's  work  has  been  the  medium  by  which  the 
inner  life  of  John  Randolph  has  been  disclosed  to  the  world  ; 
by  which,  too,  his  real  character  and  much  that  was  mysteri- 


PUBLIC    OPINION    OF    RANDOLPH.  137 

ous  in  his  conduct  may  be  explained ;  by  which  the  fearful 
struggles  of  his  soul  for  peace,  and  the  mental  and  physical 
agony  and  unrest  he  endured,  have  been  revealed.  The 
biographer  has  done  for  the  memory  of  his  great  subject, 
something  of  that  service  and  justice  which  Carlyle  did  for 
the  memory  of  Cromwell.  No  man's  fame  more  needed  such 
an  exposition  of  his  real  nature  and  history.  Randolph  has 
been,  and  is  still,  perhaps,  much  misunderstood.  He  was, 
during  his  troubled  life,  an  object  of  marked  distinction.  In 
an  eminent  degree,  he  was,  from  curiosity  as  well  as  from  the 
natural  attractions  of  his  genius,  and,  in  no  small  degree, 
from  his  eccentricities,  "the  observed  of  all  observers."  The 
eyes  of  the  world  followed  him,  wherever  he  went  and  in 
whatever  he  did,  with  the  intentness  of  prying  inquisitive- 
ness,  the  more  eager,  probably,  because  he  seemed  anxious 
to  shun  the  public  gaze.  The  public  voice  sounded  its 
loudest  notes  of  praise,  the  more  obstreperously,  perhaps,  as 
he  seemed  to  despise  its  plaudits.  But  his  was  a  fame  and 
an  applause  singularly  unmingled  with  regard,  and  even 
esteem.  Men  looked  upon  him,  and  with  reason,  more  with 
fear  than  love.  They  regarded  him,  as  a  man  bereft  of  the 
ordinary  kindnesses  and  amiable  sensibilities  of  humanity. 
Nay,  he  was  considered  as  a  merciless  satirist,  as  an  unfeel- 
ing bravo,  wielding  the  stiletto  of  an  inexorable  sarcasm  ; 
torturing,  like  his  Indian  progenitors,  from  the  love  of  inflict- 
ing pain,  or  from  the  lust  of  dominion ;  his  heart  filled  to 
overflowing  with  gall  and  bitterness — with  hatred  of  all  good 
men,  with  scorn  of  all  common  men,  with  envy  of  all  great 


138  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

men,  and  with  malignity  towards  all  of  his  race,  who  would 
not  humble  themselves  slavishly  before  him.  In  short,  the 
majority  thought  him  the  best  specimen  the  age  had  pro- 
duced of  a  genuine  misanthrope. 

As  is  usual  with  such  men,  public  opinion  decided  vari- 
ously as  to  his  intellectual  character.  Some  set  him  down  as 
a  madman,  whose  sagacity  was  only  the  cunning  of  a  lunatic, 
and  his  brilliancy  only  those  occasional  glearnings  of  light 
which  are  fitfully  emitted  from  the  darkness  of  a  madhouse. 
Others  viewed  him  as  a  man  eccentric,  indeed,  but  whose 
acuteness  of  thought,  deep  insight  into  the  motives  of  men 
and  the  affairs  of  government,  and  whose  perspicuity  and 
prescience  were  nearly  miraculous.  By  the  majority,  he  was 
thought  to  possess  no  claims  to  the  honors  of  true  states- 
manship. They  conceded  to  him  brilliancy  as  a  debater,  and, 
some  of  them,  efficiency  as  a  Guerilla  warrior,  fighting  along 
the  lines  and  cutting  off  an  annoying  adversary ;  but  'they 
denied  him  solidity,  plan,  tact,  judgment,  and  especially  the 
power  of  constructing.  He  could  not,  they  said,  build  up 
or  sustain  a  party  or  a  policy ;  but  was  an  useful  auxiliary 
in  pulling  down  others  or  their  work.  And  some  were 
found  who  denied  him  even  this  small  claim  to  considera- 
tion, and  who  declared  that  he  was  useful  to  no  one  except 
his  enemies;  like  the  elephants  of  Pyrrhus,  whose  mala- 
droit movements  were  more  dangerous  to  their  allies  than 
to  their  foes. 

Much  of  the  grossest  part  of  this  misconstruction  has 
been,  and  more  of  it  probably  will  be,  removed.  The  time 


A    REPRESENTATIVE    MAN.  139 

is  fast  coming  when  monsters  will  be  out  of  fashion ;  when 
history  will  cease  to  manufacture  men  (it  is  not  portraying 
them)  out  of  one  or  two  simple  elements,  infernal  or  divine; 
when  people,  no  longer  gods  or  devils,  will  be  suffered  to  be 
again  the  men  that  God  made  them.  Such  creations  of  the 
muse  of  romance,  not  the  less  romance  because  labelled  his- 
tory, are  not  like  those  made  in  the  laboratory  of  nature. 
She  mixes  the  elements  variously  and  curiously,  sometimes, 
it  is  true  ;  but  still  mingles  the  ingredients  into  one  organ- 
ized, composite  mass,  the  whole  of  which  is  man ;  the  indi- 
vidual differing  always  in  degree  from  the  rest,  but  being 
always  the  same  in  species. 

On  several  accounts,  John  Randolph  may  be  considered 
as  among  the  representative  men  of  our  country — as  belong- 
ing to  and  representing  a  phase  of  the  period  of  the  Consti- 
tution, and  of  that  immediately  succeeding  ;  as  a  representa- 
tive of  the  political-republican,  and  the  social-aristocratical 
spirit ;  as  a  Virginian  and  Southron  of  the  old  regime ;  as  a 
leader  in  the  Congress  during  the  last  days  of  the  Adams, 
and  tfye  first  term  of  the  Jefferson  administrations ;  as  the 
leader  of  the  Republican  opposition  to  the  war  and  quasi- 
war  measures  ;  as  a  State-Rights  leader  of  the  strictest  sect, 
adhering  to  the  tenets  of  that  sect  even  when  they  were 
abandoned  by  the  fathers  of  the  church ;  as  a  Democrat  by 
party  association,  yet  with  English  prejudices  and  affinities 
social  and  political ;  and,  probably,  even  more  character- 
istically, as  a  Virginia  Conservative,  abounding  in  love  for 
his  native  state,  and  an  unreasoning  devotion  to  her  inter- 


140  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

ests,  renown,  customs,  habitudes,  and  institutions,  resisting 
all  change  and  innovation  in  her  organic  law  and  ancient  po- 
lity, and  cherishing  sectional  prejudices  as  virtues. 

Jefferson  said  that  the  politics  of  a  man  come  from  his 
temperament.  Probably,  this  is  no  further  true  than  that 
the  moral  nature  of  every  man,  in  some  degree,  influences 
his  opinions,  especially  upon  subjects  so  nearly  allied  to,  or 
mingled  with,  moral  questions,  as  those  of  government.  If, 
however,  Jefferson  be  right,  the  peculiar  temperament  of 
Randolph,  marked,  as  it  was,  by  striking  idiosyncracies, 
deserves  to  be  taken  into  particular  account,  in  the  examina- 
tion of  his  opinions  and  history. 

John  Randolph  was  born  at  Cawsons,  the  family  seat  of 
his  maternal  ancestors,  on  the  3d  of  June,  1773.  It  is  need- 
less to  say,  that  his  family  was  one  of  the  oldest  and  most 
distinguished  of  the  old  Virginia  gentry.  The  mansion,  like 
the  proprietors,  and,  indeed,  the  families,  of  what  may  be 
called  the  old  noblesse  of  the  Ancient  Dominion,  has  fallen 
into  decay  and  ruin.  It  stood,  at  the  birth  of  the  last  of  the 
line,  on  a  promontory,  near  the  mouth  of  the  Appomatox 
river,  in  lower  Virginia.  Within  less  than  three  years  after 
his  birth,  his  father  died.  His  mother  was  left  to  him.  She 
seems  to  have  been,  in  every  respect,  fitted  for  the  task  of 
impressing  and  moulding  a  mind  and  spirit  so  much  requir- 
ing maternal  influence  and  restraint.  The  lady  was,  as  we 
learn  from  Mr.  Garland's  work,  a  beautiful  and  accomplished 
woman,  with  many  of  the  intellectual  characteristics  of  her 
gifted  son.  She  united  to  more  versatile  and  showy  gifts,  a 


RANDOLPH'S  YOUTH.  141 

strong  and  decided  intellect,  and  a  religious  character  and 
temper.  As  might  be  expected,  she  was  devotedly  attached 
to  her  orphan  boy,  whose  beauty,  delicacy  of  frame  and  in- 
telligence were  calculated  to  excite  even  more  than  common 
tenderness  in  a  mother's  bosom ;  and  he  returned,  in  full 
measure,  the  affection  she  lavished  upon  him.  She  was 
married  to  St.  George  Tucker,  in  1778  ;  and,  in  her  thirty- 
sixth  year  John,  then  fifteen  years  of  age,  was  called  to 
deplore  her  death. 

Neither  his  constitution  nor  his  taste  fitted  him,  in  youth, 
for  athletic  sports.  His  first  reading — and  it  is  this  which 
exerts  a  marked  effect  on  the  character — was  the  Fairy 
Tales,  the  works  of  Shakespeare,  and  some  books  of  history, 
among  them,  Voltaire's  Life  of  Charles  the  XII  of  Sweden. 
Passionate,  sensitive,  proud,  imaginative,  quick,  irritable, 
warm  in  his  attachments,  and  strong  in  his  dislikes,  he  seems 
at  an  early  day,  to  have  manifested  the  disposition  which 
continued  to  characterize  him  through  life.  His  earliest  im- 
pressions were  of  the  scenes  of  the  Revolution.  His  mother 
had  borne  him  in  her  arms  from  the  marauding  troops  of 
Arnold,  in  that  traitor's  invasion  of  Virginia.  His  earliest 
teachings  were  from  those  who  had  participated,  on  the  Whig 
side,  in  the  Revolutionary  struggle.  His  family  were  Whigs, 
distinguished  for  their  ardor  in  the  cause.  They  were, 
also,  persons  of  wealth,  family  and  distinction.  They  had 
agreed,  too,  in  opposing  the  Federal  Constitution.  They 
were  attached  to,  and  much  under  the  influence  of,  Mason 


142  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

and   Henry,  men,  who,  in  such  diverse  gifts,  combined  as 
much  talent  and  efficiency  as  any  two  men  in  Virginia. 

Randolph,  at  the  same  age,  at  which  Hamilton  entered 
Columbia  College,  New  York,  became  a  student  within  its 
walls.  He  did  not,  however,  long  remain  there.  Shortly 
afterwards,  he  entered  the  college  at  Princeton.  He  wit- 
nessed the  inauguration  of  Washington  ;  attended  the  debates 
of  the  first  Federal  Congress ;  came  within  the  influence  of 
Jefferson,  who  was  his  cousin,  and  of  other  leading  poli- 
ticians, and  was  soon  enlisted  on  the  Republican  side. 


CHAPTER  II. 

The  French  Revolution— Randolph,  in  early  Youth,  a  Jacobin— Burke's  Pamphlet—- 
Its Influence  on  Randolph— Points  of  Resemblance  between  Burke  and  Randolph 
—Randolph's  Early  Character— Death  of  his  brother  Richard  and  of  other  Relatives 
—His  Physical  Organization. 

THE  French  Revolution  and  its  influence  on  the  foreign 
relations  of  this  country,  became  the  absorbing  subject  of 
national  politics.  Randolph,  as  with  most  imaginative  young 
men,  took  the  radical  side ;  was,  in  his  boyhood,  as  he  ex- 
presses it,  a  Jacobin ;  but,  very  seasonably,  Burke's  pam- 
phlet on  the  French  Revolution  came  into  his  hands,  and 
made  a  powerful,  and,  in  the  end,  a  controlling  impression 
upon  his.  mind. 

The  effect  of  a  great  author  upon  a  young,  plastic,  and 
appreciative  intellect  is,  perhaps,  the  strongest  of  all  the 
influences  which  mould  the  character.  Randolph,  though 
easily  impressed,  was  singularly  fixed  and  stable  in  his  prin- 
ciples ;  nor  could  the  many-sided  and  magnificent  English 
statesman  have  found  a  pupil,  more  intensely  sympathetic 
with  himself,  or  more  appreciative  of  his  writings,  than  the 
young  Virginian.  Acute,  subtle,  as  full  of  fire  and  poetry 


144  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

as  a  bard,  affluent  of  illustrations,  quick  of  perception,  yet 
deep  in  thought ;  with  uncommon  mastery  of  language ;  as 
fresh  as  the  morning  and  as  brilliant  as  its  dew,  in  his  concep- 
tions and  diction  ;  and  wide  and  discursive  in  his  mode  and 
range  of  speculation,  the  great  ideas  of  the  eminent  Briton 
were  to  him  as  the  kindred  creations  of  a  kindred  mind.  The 
structure  of  intellect  was  a  good  deal  the  same  in  both.  A 
noble  imagination,  associated  with  high  reverence,  an  imperi- 
ous temper  and  majestic  pride,  gave  a  sort  of  baronial  cast  and 
unsocial  aspect  to  the  moral  and  intellectual  temper  of  both 
the  American  and  English  statesmen.  The  same  classic 
taste,  whose  purity  nothing  but  the  fierce  heats  of  passion 
could  corrupt  (but  which  they  did  often  corrupt),  predomi- 
nated in  their  speech  and  writings.  The  same  moral  and 
intellectual  intrepidity  was  theirs,  and  the  same  utter  and 
impatient  scorn  of  what  is  low,  vulgar,  corrupt,  venal  or 
cowardly.  The  same  passion  for  old  things,  the  pride  of  an- 
cestry, the  reverence  for  establishments  time  had  hallowed, 
for  the  old  mansion,  the  old  church,  the  old  constitution,  the 
old  renown,  the  old  paths  trod  by  the  old  fathers,  the  old 
customs,  the  old  heroes.  Whatever  prismatic  hues  seem  to 
the  eye  of  pride  and  veneration  to  hang,  like  an  aura,  over 
the  past,  were  equally  dear  to  the  hearts  of  these  proud  and 
imaginative  men.  It  may  be  wondered  why,  with  these 
traits,  they  were  Whigs,  and  not  Tories.  They  were  Whigs, 
in  the  ancient  sense,  because  of  their  strong  love  of  personal 
freedom — a  love  as  deep  and  unconquerable  as  their  pride; 
and  because  of  their  strong  caste  feelings  ;  in  other  words, 


HIS   EARLY    EDUCATION.  145 

from  devotion  to  their  own  rights  and  those  of  their  order. 
We  do  not  mean  to  compare  Randolph  with  Burke.  We  do 
not  mean  to  intimate,  that  there  was  an  equality  of  gifts,  in 
the  bountiful  dispensation  nature  had  made  to  them.  Nor 
do  we  mean  to  assert,  that  there  were  not  points  of  strong 
dissimilitude.  We  limit  the  comparison  and  correspondence 
to  what  we  have  said. 

It  may  well  be  supposed,  that,  to  such  a  mind,  so  organ- 
ized, and  under  such  tuition,  the  callow  Jacobinism  of  the 
boy  did  not  long  attach  itself. 

Randolph  was  not  a  close,  laborious,  pains-taking  student. 
His  early  education  was  not  systematic  ;  nor  do  we  think 
there  was  any  error  in  this.  His  constitution  was  not  hardy 
enough  to  withstand  the  severity  of  protracted  mental  dis- 
cipline and  continuous  study.  Nor  did  he  require  it.  Na- 
ture is  the  best  doctor,  and  the  best  teacher.  A  versatile, 
delicately-toned,  ductile  intellect  should  be  left  to  the  varie- 
ty and  relaxations,  which  its  own  organization  invites.  A 
race-horse  should  not  be  put  to  the  work  of  a  dray-horse. 
He  had  enthusiasm,  a  quick  and  sure  comprehension,  a  nice 
and  acute  observation,  and  an  uncommon  memory,  with  great 
delicacy  and  refinement  of  taste,  and  a  passionate,  self- 
willed,  and  unconquerable  temper.  He  studied  whatever  he 
read  or  noticed ;  and  he  read  and  noticed  a  great  deal.  His 
mind  was  active  and  powerful ;  and  was  obliged,  by  the  very 
law  of  its  existence,  to  be  employed ;  and  its  thoughts, 
naturally  and  most  profitably,  took  the  direction  most  con- 
genial with  his  tastes.  The  loading  of  his  mind  with  what 
7 


146  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

is  called  learning  by  the  schools,  beyond  those  things  which 
he  mastered,  would  have  been  but  heaping  and  oppressing  it 
with  rubbish.  His  forte  was  his  freshness,  piquancy,  origi- 
nality, sharp  sagacity,  piercing  insight,  sparkling  and  biting 
wit,  and  brilliant  declamation.  To  have  made  a  formal  lo- 
gician, a  man  of  facts  and  figures  of  him,  would  have 
been  to  spoil  an  orator  and  make  a  bore.  But  in  history, 
politics,  literature,  the  passing  events,  the  characters  and 
nature  of  men — all  that  qualified  him  for  success  in  politics, 
(and  much  of  this  from  merely  hearing  conversations  of  gen- 
tlemen at  the  table  or  the  fireside,)  probably,  at  twenty-one 
he  was  as  well  educated  for  statesmanship,  as  if  he  had 
taken  all  the  degrees  of  all  the  universities. 

At  school,  as  in  Congress,  he  was  shy,  reserved,  unsocial, 
incommunicative,  tolerating  and  practising  no  familiarity  of 
manners,  not  opening  himself  to  the  confidence  or  acquaint- 
ance of  other  people  ;  but  susceptible  of  warm  attachments ; 
loving  the  few  friends  whom  he  acknowledged,  with  a  roman- 
tic tenderness  ;  extending  to  them  an  unreserved  trust,  and 
holding  his  friendship  with  knightly  fidelity  and  loyalty. 
When  about  taking  his  place  in  the  world,  a  severe  affliction 
befell  him.  His  brother  Richard  died.  His  loss  was  irrepa- 
rable. Randolph  was  devotedly  attached  to  him.  He 
looked  up  to  him,  no  less  in  pride  ancj  reverence,  than  in 
love.  Richard  was  the  elder.  He  possessed  an  intellect 
better  balanced  and  more  settled  than  his  younger  brother. 
He  is  said  to  have  been,  at  least,  equally  gifted.  His  unqual- 
ified assumption  of  his  father's  debts,  when  the  estate  was 


HIS   BROTHER    RICHARD.  147 

legally  discharged,  and  his  manumission  of  his  slaves  and 
provision  for  them,  in  obedience  to  what  he  conceived  his 
duty,  show  him  to  have  possessed  the  noblest  elements  of 
character.  From  the  slender  materials  for  judging  which 
he  has  left,  we  may  take  the  estimate  of  his  friends  to  be 
true,  and  believe,  that,  whether  in  respect  of  his  talents  or 
his  virtues,  Virginia  had  not,  at  that  day,  a  son,  who  pro- 
mised to  contribute  more  to  her  honor,  or  the  public  useful- 
ness. The  bereavement  of  such  a  brother  fell  upon  the 
young  man  with  crushing  severity.  Probably,  he  never 
recovered  from  its  effects.  One  by  one,  those  nearest  him, 
"  who  alone  understood  him,"  had  been  taken  from  him — 
father,  mother,  and  now  brother  !  Upon  the  last  two,  his 
proud  spirit  had  concentrated  its  warmest  affections ;  they  were 
all  the  world  to  him ;  and  when  they  died,  life,  even  in  its 
morning  glory,  seemed  a  dreary  blank,  to  the  youth  seeming- 
ly so  blessed  by  nature  and  fortune  with  their  richest  gifts. 
A  physical  property  must  here  be  mentioned  as  bearing 
upon  Randolph's  character.  He  was  as  thin-skinned  as  an 
infant.^  His  whole  organization  was  delicate  as  a  woman's  ; 
nay  more  delicate.  His  frame  had  a  nervous  sensitiveness, 
and  a  fineness  of  fibre,  in  harmony  with  the  tone  of  his 
mind.  The  height  of  the  figure,  the  dark  flashing  eye,  the 
composed  presence,  the  well-defined  features,  the  elongated 
chin,  and  the  shape  of  the  head  alone  relieved  his  person 
from  the  appearance  of  effeminacy  of  character,  of  which  no 
man  was  more  free. 


CHAPTER   III. 

Virginia  at  the  date  of  the  Federal  Constitution— Contrast  between  the  New-Eng- 
lander  and  the  Virginian. 

IN  order  to  understand  the  political  character  of  John  Ran- 
dolph, it  is  necessary  to  look  for  a  moment  at  the  State,  of 
whose  character  and  politics  he  was  for  so  many  years  a  rep- 
resentative. This  glance  will  help  us  to  understand  the 
reason  why  Virginia  was  the  leader  in  the  war  for  State- 
Rights,  and  has  generally  continued  ever  since  to  be  a  pro- 
minenf  supporter  of  those  doctrines. 

Virginia,  at  the  date  of  the  Constitution,  was  the  largest 
of  the  States,  both  in  population  and  in  territory.  Her 
proud  and  effective  agency  in  the  revolutionary  movement 
is  well  known.  So  prodigious  had  been  the  extent  of  her 
territory,  that  it  excited  the  fears  and  jealousy  of  the  other 
States ;  and  to  appease  them,  in  a  freak  of  magnanimity,  she 
gave  away  the  immense  empire  beyond  the  Ohio.  To  give 


THE    PURITANS.  149 

still  greater  effect  to  the  concession,  she  added  or  suffered 
the  prohibition  of  slavery  in  the  ceded  territory;  an  act 
which  must  he  regarded,  we  think,  as  even  more  flagrantly 
impolitic  than  the  gift ;  and  this,  whether  we  consider  the 
interests  of  the  slave  or  of  the  master ;  or  whether  slavery 
is  to  be  a  permanent  or  a  temporary  institution.  Like  most 
foolish  acts  of  generosity,  it  brought  as  little  gratitude  as 
profit. 

The  population  of  Virginia  was  very  different  from  that 
of  Massachusetts  and  of  the  other  New  England  States.  The 
difference  between  the  Yankee  and  the  Virginian  was  as 
marked  as  that  between  the  Roundhead  and  the  Cavalier, 
or  that  between  the  Churchman  and  the  Puritan  in  the  moth- 
er country ;  or,  rather,  the  difference  was  the  same.  The 
iron  men  of  New  England  came  from  old  England  as  from 
the  house  of  bondage.  They  fled  from  persecution,  leaving 
behind  neither  attachments  nor  regrets.  They  were  strongly 
touched  with  Republicanism  in  England.  They  soon  be- 
came full-grown  Republicans  in  their  forest  homes,  which 
were,Hndeed,  the  only  homes  they  had  ever  known.  They 
were  a  race  of  men,  stern,  practical,  ascetic,  serious,  devout, 
prejudiced,  fanatical,  fearing  God,  and  without  other  fear ; 
scorning  the  tendernesses  and  humanities,  the  elegant  arts, 
embellishments,  and  refinements  of  polished  and  cultivated 
life,  as  weaknesses,  if  not  denouncing  them  as  sins ;  magni- 
fying small  frailties  into  huge  crimes ;  carrying  religion  into 
government,  and  seeking  to  enforce  religious  duties  and  ob- 
servances by  the  arm  of  temporal  authority ;  pushing  an  in- 


150  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

quisitorial  spirit  of  tyranny  and  espionage  into  the  families 
and  affairs  of  the  members  of  the  community ;  harsh  to  visit 
punishment,  and  ruling  in  state  and  household  by  fear  more 
than  by  kindness  and  love  ;  men  of  large  reverence,  and  high 
and  conscientious,  though  often  mistaken,  sense  of  duty ;  of 
strong  passions,  the  instruments  of  stronger  wills  ;  of  fixed 
purposes,  and  of  an  energy  and  faith  that  never  fainted  in 
adversity,  or  quailed  before  danger  and  difficulty ;  obeying 
law  with  a  prompt  and  reverential  obedience ;  administering 
it  usually  with  justice,  and  executing  it  always  without 
mercy.  Probably  the  world  has  never  seen  so  efficient  a 
breed  of  men ;  for  the  men  of  Lexington  and  Bunker-Hill 
were  of  the  same  strain  with  the  men  before  whose  unprac- 
tised valor,  under  Cromwell  and  Fairfax,  the  trained  chi- 
valry and  fiery  courage  of  Prince  Rupert  and  his  cavaliers 
went  down  at  Naseby  and  on  Marston  Moor. 

They  had  settled  on  barren  rocks  and  on  arid,  stony 
hills.  What  of  that?  They  have  crowned  the  hills  with 
villages,  made  the  long  coast  gleam  with  gas-lit  streets,  like 
beacons  on  the  shore,  and  the  sterile  soil  to  blossom  as  the 
rose.  They  brought  but  little  outward  wealth,  but  the 
wealth  of  mines  was  imbedded  in  their  untiring  labor,  which 
was  a  godly  virtue,  and  in  their  close  economy,  which  was  a 
saving  grace ;  for  even  the  business  virtues  were  the  offshoots 
and  products  of  their  religious  zeal  and  character. 

"  Restless  as  the  Vikings  of  old,  in  the  gristle  of  their 
youth,  they  sent  out  their  mariners  to  strike  the  whale  in 
the  Arctic  zone,  and  to  vex  with  their  prows  the  waters  of 


THE    SETTLERS    OF    VIRGINIA.  151 

unknown  seas."  They  soon  laid  the  foundation  of  the 
largest  marine  in  the  world ;  and,  almost  before  they  were 
known  to  England,  as  worth  either  taxing  or  governing,  they 
were  competing  with  her  for  the  trade  of  the  Asiatic  and 
African  coasts. 

They  turned  every  thing  to  account,  even  the  seeming 
disadvantages  of  soil  and  climate,  of  poverty  and  weakness. 
The  sterility  of  the  land  drove  them  to  the  sea;  their 
weakness  to  union;  their  poverty  to  greater  labor.  The 
rigorous  climate  hardened  them  to  endure  the  added  toil 
it  required  to  afford  them  food  and  shelter. 

Such  were  the  mighty  race  of  men,  who  were  the  found- 
ers of  empire,  and  builders  of  states  and  cities  in  the  north- 
ern portion  of  the  Union. 

Very  different  were  the  settlers  in  the  Southern  Colonies, 
especially  in  Virginia.  This  colony  was  settled  by  English- 
men, proud  of  their  country,  loyal  to  the  crown  and  the 
bigoted  King  who  wore  it ;  loyal  to  the  successor,  who  lost 
it  with  his  life  ;  and,  on  the  change  of  dynasty,  after  the  head 
of  th\3  first  Stuart  had  rolled  down  the  steps  of  Whitehall, 
keeping  their  faith,  as  long  as  they  could,  to  the  heir  of  his 
follies  and  his  sceptre.  The  soil  was  grateful,  and  the 
climate  genial;  and  the  woods  and  fields  abounded  with 
easily  acquired  means  of  sustaining  life.  Large  grants  of 
fertile  lands  were  made  to  favored  subjects  and  colonists ; 
which,  under  the  strict  entails,  stricter  than  in  England,  and- 
the  law  of  primogeniture,  as  population  increased,  made  the 
families  of  the  proprietors  wealthy.  The  principal  interest 


152  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

was  agricultural ;  and  tobacco,  coming  into  general  use,  and 
bearing  a  high  price,  became  the  staple  which,  for  a  time, 
yielded  a  large  revenue.  The  labor  on  the  estates  was 
cheap  ;  being  that  of  servants,  transported  from  the  mother 
country,  or  that  of  slaves. 

The  slaves,  that  "  stocked  the  new  plantations,"  were 
sold  cheap  ; — indeed,  those  engaged  in  the  traffic  could  well 
afford  to  sell  them  at.  low  prices,  as  they  cost  nothing  but 
the  trouble  of  stealing  and  transporting ;  or,  at  most,  were 
bought  at  the  coast,  for  a  jackknife  or  a  yard  of  calico  per 
dozen ;  and,  allowing  for  a  loss  of  one  half  by  death  on  the 
middle  passage,  the  remainder  would  bear  a  handsome  profit 
at  one  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  of  tobacco  apiece.  Persons 
of  family  and  wealth  came  out  from  England.  Much  wealth 
was  thus  brought  into  the  colony,  and  much  more  was  after- 
wards made.  There  were  no  large  towns.  Williamsburg, 
the  seat  of  government,  with  a  population  of  2,000  souls, 
was  the  largest.  The  planters  traded  directly  with  Scotch 
and  English  merchants,  who  supplied  them  with  merchandise, 
and  took  their  crops,  advancing  them  money  as  they  needed 
it,  and  taking  mortgages,  as  the  debts  begun  to  grow  large, 
upon  their  estates.  The  Vice-Regal  Court,  with  its  elegance, 
and  mimic  forms  of  royalty  on  a  small  scale,  infected  the 
manners  of  the  gentry,  and  kept  up  social  distinctions  among 
the  different  classes  of  the  colonists;  while  the  insular 
situation  and  retired  habits  of  the  planters  on  their  estates, 
who  made  large  quantities  of  provisions  for  which  there  was  no 
market,  made  the  rites  of  hospitality  a  grateful  and  inexpen- 


THE    OLD    VIRGINIANS.  153 

sive  exercise.  The  planter  had  leisure,  ease,  money ;  and,  in 
the  absence  of  other  excitements  or  occupations,  amused  him- 
self with  company,  horse-racing,  gaming,  drinking,  and  such 
other  modes  of  recreation  as  opportunity  allowed.  Litera- 
ture was  not  much  cultivated,  except  among  a  few,  and  even 
by  them  more  as  an  accomplishment  or  a  means  of  diversion 
than  as  a  profession. 

The  established  religion  was  the  Church  of  England ; 
and  the  ministers  of  it,  selected  more  from  regard  to  their 
own  convenience  than  to  the  interests  of  religion,  and  from 
the  orthodoxy  of  their  profession  than  the  piety  of  their 
practice,  conformed,  as  much,  at  least,  to  the  tone  of  society 
around  them,  as  to  the  injunctions  of  their  faith. 

The  Colony  was  essentially  English — Cavalier-English. 
Their  looks,  their  religion,  their  conversation,  their  com- 
merce, their  education,  their  manners  were  all  English. 
The  colonists  cherished  the  kindest  and  proudest  feelings 
for  Old  England.  "  They  called  it  their  home." 

Gay,  dashing,  hospitable,  careless,  proud,  high-spirited 
and  gallant,  loving  pleasure  and  excitement,  unused  to  labor 
or  self-denial,  there  was  but  little  sympathy  between  the 
Virginia  planter  and  his  more  sour,  thrifty,  practical,  shrewd 
and  calculating  neighbor  of  the  north.  They  belonged  to 
essentially  different  classes  of  men. 

The  effect  of  the  institution  of  slavery  was  marked.     It 

was  seen  in  the  pride,  the  individuality,  the  social  spirit, 

the  refined  manners  of  the  higher  classes  ;  and,  with  these, 

mingled  other  and  worse  effects  on  the  character.     The  pro- 

7* 


154  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

prietors  of  the  large  estates  lived  in  luxury  and  elegance. 
Whatever  wealth  or  credit  could  procure  was  gathered 
around  them.  Some  of  them  emulated  the  style  of  the 
English  nobility ;  and  the  wreck  of  many  a  noble  mansion 
,  still  gives  evidence  of  the  past  state  of  its  lordly  master, 
though  now,  like  him,  mouldering  in  decay. 

The  feudal  times  and  baronial  manners  of  "  merrie  Eng- 
land "  seemed  revived  upon  this  continent.  Indeed,  looking 
down,  from  his  castle-like  dwelling,  over  a  broad  sweep  of 
wood,  and  water,  and  patrimonial  fields,  tilled  by  his  hun- 
dreds of  slaves,  the  old  Virginian  might  well  feel  himeelf 
scarcely  less  of  a  lord  than  her  Saxon  Franklins,  or  her 
more  modern  Dukes  or  Earls.  "  Old  times  are  changed, 
old  manners  gone."  The  revelry  is  silent  in  their  halls ; 
the  halls  gone  to  decay.  The  very  site  of  their  mansions  is 
covered  with  stunted  pines  and  sedge ;  and  park,  and  garden, 
and  field,  and  manor,  long  since  worn  out  and  deserted,  are 
grown  over  with  briers  and  the  undergrowth  of  the  return- 
ing forest,  and  never  visited,  save  by  the  solitary  sportsman 
in  quest  of  the  small  game,  which  has  taken  shelter  in  the 
covert. 

If  caste  has  its  evils,  it  has  its  peculiar  virtues,  too. 
These  are  the  esprit  du  corps,  the  kindness  and  social  cour- 
tesy, the  gentleness  of  manners,  the  chivalry  of  bearing,  the 
point  of  honor,  the  homage  to  woman,  and  a  nice  regard  for 
reputation.  Where  there  was  so  much  leisure,  there  was 
opportunity  and  taste  for  intellectual  cultivation  ;  and,  at 
the  bar,  and  in  the  public  councils,  a  distinguished  array  of 


VIRGINIA    AT   THE    REVOLUTION.  155 

talent  and  eloquence  was  found.  Indeed,  at  the  opening  of 
the  Revolution,  Virginia  had  more  men  of  eminent  character 
and  intellect,  than  she  or  any  other  state  has  had  at  any 
other  period. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

The  first  Constitution  of  Virginia— Randolph  opposed  to  equal  Descents  and  Distribu- 
tions— Virginia  cherishes  her  Talent — Her  State  pride  and  jealousy  of  external 
power— Opposition  to  the  Federal  Constitution— Barely  adopted  by  Virginia— 
Eandolph  subsequently  against  it — Strict  Construction — "Washington's  Adminis- 
tration—Adams's—Alien and  Sedition  Laws— Calender's  Trial— Opposition  to 
Adams's  Administration— Resolutions  of  1798— Eeport  of  1799— Madison— His 
Character— Patrick  Henry  joins  the  Federal  Party— His  Character— His  and 
Randolph's  Speeches  at  Charlotte  Court-House—Henry's  Eloquence— His  Death. 

THE  laws,  regulating  descents  and  equalizing  the  distribution 
of  property,  were  among  the  first  acts  of  the  new  govern- 
ment of  Virginia.  These  laws  met  with  much  opposition. 
Randolph  seems  to  have  been  violently  hostile  to  them. 
He  thus  speaks  of  them  :  "  Well  might  old  George  Mason 
exclaim,  that  the  author  of  that  law  never  had  a  son." 
And  again  :  "  The  old  families  of  Virginia  will  form  connec- 
tions with  low  people,  and  sink  into  the  mass  of  overseers' 
sons  and  daughters ;  and  this  is  the  legitimate,  nay,  inevita- 
ble conclusion,  to  which  Mr.  Jefferson  and  his  levelling 
system  have  brought  us." 

The  Constitution  of  Virginia  was,  in  many  respects,  an 


THE   NORTH   AND    THE   SOUTH.  157 

admirable  one.  Considered  with  reference  to  the  times  and 
people,  it  was,  indeed,  a  wonderful  performance.  Though 
greatly  in  advance  of  the  system  which  it  superseded,  it 
stopped  far  short  of  the  popular  requirements  of  the  present 
day.  It  was  the  government  of  a  class,  though  of  a  large 
class — the  freeholders  of  the  state ;  and  the  freeholders 
looked  with  implicit  trust  to  the  gentry. 

The  feelings  of  loyalty  and  of  reverence,  turned  from  the 
crown,  were  given  to  the  new  government  and  its  rulers. 
The  homage  of  the  people  descended  upon  the  men  in  the 
state  eminent  for  their  talent  and  virtue  ;  and  Virginia,  to 
this  day,  though  with  weakened  force,  has  always  cherished 
her  talent  with  more  pride  and  steadfastness  than  any  other 
state  in  the  Union,  South  Carolina,  perhaps,  excepted. 

The  principal  part  of  the  government  of  the  colony  had 
been  done  at  home.  The  mother  country,  for  a  long  time 
scarcely  at  all,  and  at  no  time  very  greatly,  interfered  in  the 
usual  and  apparent  acts  of  government ;  and  when  she  did 
interfere,  the  colony  had  generally  resisted  the  experiment. 

ijven  in  the  revolutionary  struggle,  the  alliance  between 
Virginia  and  the  other  states,  especially  the  northern,  was 
not  very  close,  and  the  contact  of  the  inhabitants,  as  a  whole, 
not  frequent  or  lasting.  The  trade  and  intercourse  between 
the  southern  and  northern  colonies  before  and  immediately 
after  the  war,  were  small.  There  were  jealousies,  rivalries, 
and  bickerings  between  them.  There  was,  as  we  have  said, 
but  little  sympathy  between  the  Southron  and  the  Yankee. 
The  Southern  people  were  very  much  an  insular  community, 


158  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

and  completely  homogeneous ;  cherishing  the  prejudices 
against  "  outsiders,"  which  such  a  people  are  apt  to  feel. 

It  must  be  remembered,  too,  that,  with  such  a  people, 
there  naturally  existed  great  jealousy  and  distrust  of  any 
external  power ;  for  all  such  power,  of  late  years,  had  only 
been  seen  and  felt  in  its  tyranny. 

These  considerations  developed  their  effects,  when  the  ques- 
tion of  the  adoption  of  the  Federal  Constitution  came  up  for 
discussion.  -That  Constitution  proposed  to  establish  a  new 
government,  which,  in  comparison  with  their  own,  looked  like  a 
foreign  government.  It  cut  down,  as  was  said,  the  large,  impe- 
rial State  of  Virginia,  with  territory  enough  for  a  kingdom,  into 
a  mere  province  or  appendage  of  a  great  central  government. 
It  razeed  her  down  in  one,  and  that  the  most  stable,  branch 
of  the  government,  to  an  equality  with  Rhode  Island  and 
Delaware,  less  in  territory,  and  scarcely  greater  in  popula- 
tion than  one  of  her  own  counties.  It  took  from  the  state 
the  control  and  jurisdiction  of  its  own  liege  citizens,  with 
their  lives  and  property,  and  transferred  them  to  the  Yan- 
kee. It  transferred  from,  her  the  characteristic  and  leading 
faculties  of  independent  government,  and  created  in  favor  of 
another  sovereignty,  paramount  and  mandatory  obligations 
upon  the  people  of  the  State ;  and  put  those  people,  directly 
and  immediately  under  the  power  of  the  new,  and,  to  a  great 
extent,  alien  government. 

As  might  have  been  expected,  there  was  violent  oppo- 
sition to  the  Constitution  in  Virginia.  Patrick  Henry  and 
George  Mason  led  the  opposition  in  the  Virginia  Conven- 


DISTRUST    OF    THE    FEDERAL    GOVERNMENT.  159 

tion;  and,  out  of  168  delegates,  but  a  majority  of  ten  were 
obtained,  at  last,  in  its  favor. 

The  stepfather  and  connections  of  Randolph  sided  with 
the  opposition.  He  was  himself,  years  afterwards,  of  the 
same  way  of  thinking ;  and,  had  he  been  old  enough  to  have 
engaged  in  political  opinions,  he  would  unquestionably  have 
taken  part  with  his  relations. 

When  the  new  government  started,  it  started,  even  under 
the  direction  of  Washington,  under  circumstances  which 
naturally  drew  to  it  suspicions  and  distrust.  There  brooded 
discontents  in  too  many  bosoms,  not  to  make  very  slight 
causes  the  occasions  or  the  pretexts  for  discharging  them. 
Hamilton  and  his  party  led  off  a  policy,  calculated  above  all 
others,  to  bring  them  out.  He  was  for  making  the  new 
government  felt ;  for  impressing  energy  upon  it,  as  its  char- 
acteristic quality.  The  power  of  government  had,  in  the 
past,  only  been  known  to  the  people  of  the  South  as  another 
name  for  its  oppressions.  It  is  not  easy  for  the  common 
mind  to  dissociate  the  idea  of  governmental  strength  from 
the  iHea  of  despotism.  Then  came  the  exercise  of  the  tax- 
ing power,  a  power  always  ungracious,  and  generally  odious  ; 
and  peculiarly  hateful  at  a  time  when  poverty  and  embarrass- 
ment made  these  forced  contributions  extremely  onerous. 

Although  the  people  of  several  of  the  states  preferred 
the  new  Constitution  to  the  old  articles,  yet  a  majority, 
doubtless,  would  have  preferred  a  Constitution  of  less  power. 
And  these  would  naturally  be  disposed  to  such  a  construc- 
tion of  the  Constitution,  and  such  a  policy  of  government,  as 


160  JOHN  RANDOLPH. 

would  limit  its  power  to  the  standard  they  originally  pre- 
ferred. 

The  passion  for  liberty,  so  strong,  yet  so  indefinite  and 
vague,  would  come  in,  too,  as  a  powerful  auxiliary,  whenever 
appealed  to  against  an  act  denounced  as  arbitrary  or  as  an 
usurpation.  And,  from  the  time  of  the  Israelites,  we  know 
the  inherent  propensity  in  men  to  be  dissatisfied  with  what 
is,  and  to  believe  and  hope  for  something  better  in  what  is 
to  be. 

But  the  sentiment  of  reverence  and  of  gratitude  for 
Washington,  and  the  general  confidence  in  him,  were  so 
great,  that,  though  with  sadly  reduced  popularity,  he  stood 
the  ordeal  of  two  presidential  terms.  Adams,  representing 
the  same  policy,  succeeded.  His  whole  term  was  a  gaunt- 
let, run  through  every  sort  of  assailment  and  assailants.  The 
Alien  and  Sedition  laws  completed  his  unpopularity  in  Vir- 
ginia. These  laws  were  extremely  odious  in  the  South. 
They  were  supposed  to  be  levelled  chiefly  at  citizens  of 
Virginia,  a  state  the  foremost  and  boldest  in  opposition  to 
the  administration,  and  in  denunciation  of  the  Federalists. 
The  Federal  authorities  arrested  and  tried  in  that  state  some 
offenders  against  the  Sedition  law — the  infamous  libeller,  Cal- 
lender,  among  them.  The  sympathies  of  the  crowd  are  nearly 
always  with  a  state-prisoner.  Great  capital  was  made  out 
of  the  trial,  by  denunciations  of  those  who  sought  to  put 
down  the  liberty  of  the  press,  the  freedom  of  speech,  and  all 
that.  The  Constitution  was  declared  to  be  invaded,  rightly 
so  declared,  we  think ;  and  Madison,  who  had  been  the 


JAMES    MADISON.  161 

ablest  advocate  of  its  adoption,  was  now  prominent  in  the 
assault  upon  the  law  and  its  authors.  The  old  anti-Federal- 
ists, almost  to  a  man,  opposed  the  Adams  administration. 
The  same  views  of  policy  which  led  them  to  oppose  the  Con- 
stitution, as  making  too  strong  a  government,  led  them  to 
oppose  a  strong  and  energetic  administration,  and  a  liberal 
construction  of  Federal  powers. 

The  excitement  in  Virginia  was  intense.  The  Legisla- 
ture, meeting  in  1798,  had  expressed  the  strongest  condem- 
nation of  the  Federal  doctrines  of  the  day.  Their  resolves 
constituted  the  platform  of  the  Republican  faith ;  and, 
though  they  did  not,  at  first,  seem  to  meet  with  public  favor 
elsewhere,  ultimately  became  the  recognized  creed  of  the 
party  ;  as  the  Report  of  the  year  following  became  its  au- 
thentic exposition. 

These  papers  were  drawn  by  Madison,  and  are  sup- 
posed to  be  among  the  ablest  productions  of  his  pen. 
Madison's  accession  to  the  Republican  ranks  was  of  great 
advantage  to  the  party.  His  early  antecedents  had  placed 
him  not  far  from  Hamilton,  and  very  close  to  Washington, 
who  seems  to  have  entertained,  for  a  time,  a  high  apprecia- 
tion of  his  talents,  and,  for  his  person,  a  warm  regard.  To 
Jefferson's  influence  over  him  is  attributed,  and,  probably, 
with  reason,  the  change  which  had  come  over  his  political 
character  and  relations.  Cautious,  prudent,  pure  of  moral 
character,  learned,  thoughtful,  acute  and  discriminating,  with 
perfect  command  of  temper,  with  marked  facility  and  power 
of  diction,  and  singular  apparent  fairness  in  his  statements 


162  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

and  reasonings,  he  was,  by  far,  the  ablest  writer  and  debater 
on  the  Republican  side.  Indeed,  he  was  the  only  one  among 
them,  who  could,  at  all,  compete  with  Hamilton,  either  by 
speech  or  with  pen.  Patrick  Henry,  called  out  by  Wash- 
ington, came  forth,  to  the  great  disappointment  of  the  Re- 
publicans, on  the  Federal  side.  It  seems,  that  the  old  vete- 
ran had  been  smarting  under  the  idea,  that  Washington  had 
denounced  him  as  a  seditious  monocrat.  He  had  made  some 
carping  remarks  about  Washington's  levees  ;  and,  before  that 
time,  had  opposed,  with  great  vehemence  and  zeal,  the  ratifi- 
cation of  the  Constitution.  Washington  was  advised  of 
Henry's  state  of  mind ;  and,  through  a  mutual  friend,  re- 
moved this  erroneous  impression.  Unusual  pains  were  taken 
by  both  sides  to  conciliate  the  great  Virginian;  but  the 
Federalists  succeeded  in  winning  him  to  their  side  ;  or,  at  all 
events,  he  attached  himself  to  that  party,  and  prepared  to  go 
into  the  conflict  with  his  usual  zeal  and  ardor. 

In  many  respects,  Henry  was  the  most  remarkable,  and, 
Washington  excepted,  the  most  celebrated  man  of  the  Re- 
public. His  early  identification  with  the  Revolutionary 
cause ;  his  prodigious  influence  in  starting  forward,  and  in 
arousing  the  people  to  undertake  and  prosecute  that  move- 
ment ;  the  self-exposure  he  had  made  when,  almost  alone,  he 
stood  up  against  and  defied  the  English  rulers  and  minis- 
ters ;  his  astonishing  eloquence,  which  was  a  beacon-light  of 
revolution,  shining  out  above  every  thing  and  every  one 
about  him ;  and  his  civil  and  military  services,  were  but  some 
of  the  causes  which  gave  him  so  prominent  a  position  before 


PATRICK    HENRY.  163 

the  country,  and  so  commanding  an  influence  over  the  peo- 
ple. He  was  not  merely  regarded  as  the  chief  orator  in  a 
revolution,  great  and  brilliant  as  this  position  is  ;  he  was 
looked  upon  almost  as  a  prophet  of  Liberty,  and  a  prophet 
foretelling  and  leading  the  way  to  great  and  exalted  blessings. 
He  was  a  man  of  wonderful  sagacity,  as  well  as  of  wonder- 
ful eloquence.  His  principles  were  eminently  Republican. 
His  manners  and  habits  were  plain,  unpretending,  kind  and 
social,  with  a  large,  benignant  and  loving  nature.  Serious 
and  severe  of  principle,  and  yet  kind  and  tolerant  towards 
men,  he  was  a  man  whom  the  commons  could  readily  ap- 
proach, and  yet  a  man  whom  familiarity  did  not  depreciate. 
He  was  even  more  emphatically,  in  all  respects,  than  Jeffer- 
son, a  man  of  the  people,  and  was  as  proud  of  the  title  ;  had 
appeared  oftener  before  them,  and  in  more  imposing  aspects, 
and  always  as  the  representative  of  the  rights  of  the  masses 
or  of  the  citizen;  and  his  name  and  fame,  passing  from 
father  to  son,  had  become  a  sort  of  heirloom  in  every  family 
of  the  State.  He  became  one  of  those  favored  characters, 
whom  an  entire  people  agree  to  consider  as  the  standard  of 
excellence,  and  to  refer  to,  in  language  at  once  affectionate 
and  familiar,  as  the  common  favorite  and  guide.  He  had 
crowned  many  noble  qualities  with  an  ardent  and  unaffected 
piety  ;  and  had  arrived  at  an  age,  when  respect  and  love  were 
mingled  with  veneration.  He  was  very  characteristically  a 
Virginian  of  the  middle  class,  with  all  the  local  prejudices 
of  an  insular  patriot  for  a  community  among  whom  he  had 
always  lived.  He  had  served  Virginia  and  her  alone,  reject- 


164  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

ing  Federal  offices  of  the  first  dignity,  secretaryships,  mis- 
sions and  embassies.  He  united,  too,  the  hajnts  and  manners 
of  the  common  people  with  the  high-toned  principles  of  the 
cultivated  gentleman.  He  was  one  of  those  men  of  whom  the 
people  delight  to  talk.  His  sayings,  his  anecdotes,  his  witti- 
cisms, his  sharp  apothegms,  his  brilliant  triumphs  on  the 
hustings,  in  the  courts,  in  the  deliberative  assemblies,  were 
themes  of  conversation  at  every  fireside,  and  on  every  mus- 
ter-ground and  court-yard.  Men  followed  him  about  wher- 
ever he  went.  His  talents,  his  tastes,  even  his  prejudices, 
adapted  him  for  a  great  popular  tribune.  What  would  have 
been  demagoguism  in  any  one  else,  was  only  the  expression 
of  his  natural  feelings,  sentiments  and  character.  The  old- 
fashioned  honesty,  and  the  homely  virtues  of  the  Virginia 
fireside  found  in  him  their  representative  and  champion. 
New  French  ways,  and  modern  refinements  of  manner,  and 
modes  of  life,  were  his  aversion.  He  had  never  read  many 
books  ;  but  with  two  works,  the  noblest  of  God's  works,  he 
was  as  familiar  as  any  one ;  and  these  were  man  and  the 
Bible. 

Had  he  taken  the  stump  and  canvassed  the  state,  it  is 
scarcely  too  much  to  say,  that  the  Federalists  would  have  car- 
ried every  thing  before  them.  But  disease  and  age  had  pal- 
sied the  old  warrior's  arm.  He  had  fought,  except  one,  his 
last  battle.  He  came  from  his  retreat  reluctantly,  at  the 
urgent  request  of  Washington,  to  announce  himself  as  a  can- 
didate for  the  lower  branch  of  the  Legislature  for  Charlotte 


165 

county,  in  order  to  be  able  to  meet  Madison  in  the 
Assembly. 

John  Randolph,  then  scarcely  of  the  legal  age,  and  bear- 
ing the  appearance  of  a  mere  stripling,  was  a  candidate  for 
Congress,  in  opposition  to  Philip  Boiling,  a  red-coated,  cho- 
leric Federalist. 

The  spring  term  of  the  County  Court,  the  time  when, 
under  the  old  regime,  Virginia  always  brought  out  her  best 
breed  and  blood  of  horses  and  politicians,  witnessed  the  en- 
counter, if  such  it  could  be  called,  between  the  old  Repub- 
lican-Federalist and  the  young  aristocrat- Republican. 

The  news  had  spread  far  and  wide  that  Patrick  Henry 
would  make  his  last  speech  on  the  first  day  of  court. 
Schools  were  dismissed,  business  was  suspended,  men  flock- 
ed from  the  country  to  hear  him.  At  the  appointed  hour, 
proclamation  was  made  that  Colonel  Henry  (the  title  given 
him  before  the  war,  as  he  went  to  seize  the  gunpowder, 
when  lawless  men  were  led,  as  the  proclamation  of  the  old 
colonial  governor  had  it,  by  one  Patrick  Henry,  a  seditious 
traitor) — that  Colonel  Henry  "  would  make  his  last  speech, 
at  the  risk  of  his  life."  Decrepit  and  feeble,  like  old  Chat- 
ham in  the  House  of  Peers,  leaning  on  his  crutch,  the  vene- 
rable orator  was  lifted  up  on  the  rude  rostrum,  to  speak  to 
the  survivors,  few  they  were,  and  to  the  children  and  grand- 
children of  the  large  majority  of  those  now  dead,  whom  he 
had  electrified,  nearly  half  a  century  before,  by  the  first  es- 
says of  his  marvellous  eloquence.  The  speech,  if  we  may 
trust  tradition,  was  worthy  of  his  summer  prime.  Indeed, 


166  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

it  won  for  him  a  new  title  to  renown.  Men  thrilled  and 
wept  at  his  bidding.  It  seemed  as  if  he  possessed  a  super- 
natural power  over  that  large  and  sympathizing  crowd ;  as 
if  he  could  move,  at  pleasure,  the  pulses  that  beat  in  the 
veins  of  the  thousands,  who  looked,  lost  and  absorbed  in  him, 
into  his  speaking  face.  His  magical  oratory  had  destroyed 
individuality  and  selfhood  in  the  masses  under  his  spell, 
and  made  them,  in  subjection  to  common  sympathies,  seem 
but  as  one  man ;  and  that  one  psychologized  and  led  captive, 
only  able  to  feel,  and  think,  and  act,  as  the  magician  com- 
manded. Making  abatement  for  exaggerations,  if  we  can  be- 
lieve any  thing  of  the  statements  of  opinions,  facts  and  ef- 
fects, coming  from  competent  and  credible  men,  themselves 
observers  of  what  they  relate,  it  may  be  questioned  if  a 
more  eloquent  man  than  Henry  ever  lived.  He  united  all 
the  elements  of  an  almost  perfect  orator.  He  was  enthusi- 
astic, fervid,  impulsive,  but  not  rash,  or  extravagant,  or  fana- 
tical. As  M'Clung  says  of  Clay,  "  Reason  held  the  helm, 
while  Passion  blew  the  gale."  His  physical  organization,  as 
in  every  true  orator,  was  admirably  adapted  to  the  expres- 
sion of  his  genius.  His  moral  and  emotional  sensibilities 
were  quick,  finely,  yet  strongly  organized,  and  modulated, 
like  a  fine  instrument,  the  voice  to  which  they  gave  tone  and 
utterance.  His  voice  was  musical,  strong,  various  of  tone, 
and  fitted  for  the  expression  of  every  variety  of  intonation 
and  cadence. 

His  countenance  serious,  and  almost  dull  when  in  repose, 
grew,  under  the  excitement  of    speech,    transfigured,   and 


HENRY'S  ELOQUENCE.  167 

almost  articulate  with  the  emotions  that  thrilled  his  soul. 
The  eye  glowed  or  melted,  was  fierce  in  indignation,  or 
tender  in  sympathy,  or  commanding  in  its  imperial  utter- 
ances of  pride  and  dignity.  Few  men  could  stand  unmoved 
the  fixed  gaze  of  that  eagle  eye,  turned  in  scorn  or  defiance 
upon  them.  He  did  not  so  much  possess,  as  he  was  pos- 
sessed by,  the  spirit  of  oratory,  when  it  moved  upon  him. 
It  transformed  his  whole  port  and  presence.  He  seemed 
another  and  a  higher  being  under  its  inspiration.  The 
awkward  and  slovenly  air,  the  impassive  countenance,  the 
listless  movement  disappeared,  as,  rising  with  his  theme,  he 
soared,  like  a  Hebrew  prophet,  to  sublime  heights  of  decla- 
mation and  prose-poetry ;  and,  glowing,  inspired,  irresistible, 
he  commanded,  awed,  subdued,  fired  with  passion,  or  melted 
with  pity,  the  ductile  subjects  of  his  power.  The  specimens 
given  of  him  by  Wirt,  are  not  always  characteristic.  Henry's 
style  was  pure  Saxon-Bible-english.  He  spoke  in  no  such 
scanned  lines  as  "  the  next  breeze,  that  sweeps  from  the 
North,  will  bring  to  our  ears  the  clash  of  resounding  arms." 
This  is  Wirt's  rhetoric,  not  Henry's  eloquence.  The  short, 
vigorous,  pictorial  sentences,  winged  with  the  fire  of  imagi- 
nation, of  the  grand  old  man,  were  altogether  different  from 
these  holiday,  Eolian  tunes.  The  difference  between  them  is 
the  difference  between  Homer  and  Tom  Moore.  The  lines 
of  Wirt  resemble  the  words  of  Henry,  about  as  much  as  the 
tinklings  of  the  guitar  resemble  the  bugle-notes  before  a 
charge  ;  or  as  the  carolling  of  a  canary  resembles  the  scream 
of  the  eagle,  when  he  stoops  on  his  quarry. 


168  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

Henry  fell  back  exhausted  into  the  arms  of  his  friends, 
after  this  great  speech,  amidst  the  most  marked  and  striking 
evidences  of  its  impressiveness  and  power. 

Randolph  rose,  probably,  to  the  surprise  of  every  one, 
to  reply.  We  do  not  suppose  there  was  any  comparison  as 
exercises  of  oratory,  between  the  speeches  of  the  two.  That 
the  crowd,  just  released  from,  and  still  thrilling  with,  the 
eloquence  of  Henry,  listened  to  him  at  all ;  that  they  listened 
patiently  for  three  hours ;  that  they  were  pleased  and  en- 
tertained all  that  time,  and  that  the  effect  of  the  speech  was 
to  promote  the  personal  interests  of  the  youthful  speaker,  is 
praise  enough  for  any  man's  first  effort. 

It  seems  that  Henry  listened  to  the  reply.  He  did  not 
rejoin.  Probably,  it  was  not  expected  of  him.  At  the  con- 
clusion, he  came  to  Randolph.  He  seems  to  have  accosted 
him  in  a  style  resembling  that  which  a  father  would  address 
to  a  bright,  but  forward  boy.  Taking  Randolph  by  the 
hand,  he  said  :  "  Young  man,  you  call  me  father ;  then  my 
son,  I  have  somewhat  to  say  unto  thee  (holding  both  his 
hands),  Keep  justice,  keep  truth,  and  you  will  live  to  think 
differently." 

Mr.  Garland  adds  :  "  They  dined  together,  and  Randolph 
ever  after  venerated  the  memory  of  his  friend,  who  died  in 
a  few  weeks  from  that  day." 

They  were  both  elected  in  April.  But  the  death  of 
Henry  prevented  that  collision  in  the  Legislature  from  which 
the  Federalists  hoped  so  much  of  benefit,  and  the  Republi- 
cans apprehended  so  much  of  injury,  to  their  respective  sides. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Randolph  in  Congress— His  Political  Creed— State-Eights— Opposes  Adams's  Ad- 
ministration—Election of  Jefferson— Eandolph  and  Hamilton— Excise  Abolished 
— Policy  of  this — Acquisition  of  Louisiana — Impeachment  of  Judge  Chase — Ean- 
dolph as  ^  Party  Leader— His  Unhappiness— Disappointed  Love— His  Friend- 
ships — Death  of  his  Friends,  Thompson  and  Bryan. 

IN  December,  1799,  Randolph  took  his  seat  in  Congress. 
The  Federalists  were  in  nominal  ascendency,  but  the  old 
dynasty  was  crumbling,  and  the  sceptre  of  authority  depart- 
ing for  ever  from  hands  that  had  shown  themselves  incapa- 
ble, perhaps,  unworthy  of  holding  power. 

*The  political  character  of  Randolph  was  now  formed,  and 
formed  for  life  ;  for,  we  think,  it  must  be  conceded,  that  he 
was  one  of  the  most  consistent — we  think  the  most  con- 
sistent, of  all  the  politicians  that  ever  lived  in  the  republic. 

It  becomes  necessary  to  define  his  creed.  He  was  a 
State-Rights  man,  and,  therefore,  a  Republican.  He  was, 
by  conviction,  prejudice,  and  impulse,  a  strict  construe- 
tionist.  He  opposed  the  idea  of  a  great  central  power,  which 
was  to  govern  Virginia.  He  was,  therefore,  opposed  to  the 
8 


170  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

Constitution ;  but  the  Constitution  having  been  established, 
he  endeavored  so  to  construe  it,  and  so  to  have  the  gov- 
ernment it  made  administered,  as  to  prevent  the  existence 
of  this  power  ;  at  any  rate,  to  avoid  any  accession  of  power 
to  the  national  government.  He  believed  that  the  powers  of 
the  Federal  G-overnment  were  a  mere  delegation  of  powers 
from  the  states ;  and  that  the  paramount  sovereignty  still 
remained  with  the  states.  The  great  monster  evil  of  govern- 
ment, in  his  view,  was  consolidation,  He  thought  that  the 
great  danger  in  the  administration  of  our  government,  was 
this  consolidation ;  that  the  Federal  Government,  was  meant 
to  be,  or  ought  to  be,  construed  as  a  limited  agency,  for  a 
few,  general,  simple,  external  objects,  and  inter-state  pur- 
poses ;  and  that  any  power  beyond  these  was  an  usurpation 
upon  the  rights  of  the  states.  How  faithfully  he  adhered  to 
these  doctrines,  will  be  seen  in  the  sequel. 

We  think  the  expectation,  that  the  government  would 
long  be  administered  in  subordination  to  such  doctrines, 
wholly  illusory.  Whenever  the  power  was  given  to  the  gov- 
ernment to  enforce  its  own  laws,  such  an  idea  was  hopeless. 
The  character  of  the  government,  which  exhibited  itself  as 
the  organ  of  nationality,  would  naturally  conform  itself  to 
the  character  of  the  people  ;  and  the  bold,  aggressive,  war- 
like, practical,  utilitarian,  eager,  impatient  race  who  con- 
stituted the  mass  of  the  republic,  would  mould  the  charac- 
ter of  the  government,  whatever  it  originally  was,  to  their 
own  type  and  image ;  and  such  it  has  become. 

Indeed,  it  so  happens,  that  the  measures,  which  have 


THE   NATIONAL    GOVERNMENT.  171 

given  to  the  government  its  strongest  national  tone,  have 
been  the  measures  of  the  State-Rights  administrations. 

The  State- Rights  doctrine  supposes  a  state  of  hostility 
or  rivalry  between  the  General  and  State  governments  ;  and 
that  the  danger  is,  that  the  General  Government  will  invade 
the  province  of  the  state  jurisdictions.  When  the  Federal 
Government  increases,  the  states  decrease  ;  for,  what  it  takes, 
it  takes  from  the  states.  The  loyalty,  respect,  homage, 
affection,  which  are  given  to  the  General  Government,  are 
so  many  cords  of  attachment  wrested  from  the  states. 

The  wars,  which  the  Republic  has  waged,  have  produced 
the  strongest  Federalism  of  sentiment  and  power.  They 
have  turned  attention  away  from  the  state  governments  to 
the  General  Government.  The  eyes  of  the  citizen  and  of  the 
world  are  fixed  on  that  government.  The  added  patronage 
and  money  attract  to  it  supporters  more  or  less  venal.  The 
successes  of  the  Flag  hallow  it.  Patriotism  becomes  love  for 
the  Republic.  The  national  Flag  is  reverenced  as  the  symbol 
of  our  country,  and  the  emblem  of  our  power.  We  take 
pride  in  the  great  Republic,  because  it  is  ours.  Who  thinks 
of  the  poor  states,  unconsidered  and  unnoticed ;  or  who,  in 
time  of  war,  calls  himself  a  citizen  of  Virginia  or  Alabama  ? 
No ;  he  is  one  of  the  great  American  nation.  All  the  glaring 
external  symbols  of  sovereignty  are  held  out  by  the  Federal 
Government — the  flag,  the  army,  the  navy,  the  coinage,  the 
forts,  the  arsenals,  the  docks,  the  customs,  the  light-houses. 
The  successes  of  war  are  common  triumphs  in  which  state 
pride  or  agency  is  little  known  or  felt.  The  soldiers,  meeting 


172  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

in  mass  on  the  field,  are  placed  under  officers  other  than 
those  of  their  own  state ;  and  thus  a  state  of  war,  with  its 
glare  and  pomp,  with  its  military  rules  and  summary  pro- 
ceedings— its  unlimited  powers,  its  excesses,  forgotten  in 
adversity,  forgiven  in  triumph — all  these  things  have  an  air 
and  an  "  odor  "  of  nationality  which  were  unknown  to  the 
earlier  ideas  of  the  Republic.  Besides,  war  is  the  highest 
executive  function,  and  necessarily  centralizes  immense  power 
in  the  hands  that  wield  it.  But  we  anticipate  the  narrative. 

Randolph,  upon  his  entrance  into  Congressional  life,  early 
took  ground  against  the  administration.  The  session  of 
1799,  though  marked  with  a  good  deal  of  excitement,  was 
not  productive  of  measures  of  a  great  deal  of  importance. 
The  judiciary  bill,  and  the  measures  for  an  increase  of  the 
army,  in  view  of  the  difficulties  in  our  relations  with  France, 
were  the  most  important.  There  was  but  little  talent  in 
Congress.  Randolph  opposed  the  army  bill,  and  made 
some  intemperate  remarks,  not  in  the  best  taste,  concerning 
the  army,  calling  them  mercenaries  and  ragamuffins.  This 
excited  the  ire  of  a  brace  of  lieutenants  in  the  lobby,  who 
insulted  him  at  the  theatre  afterwards.  Randolph  com- 

* 

plained  to  the  President,  who  replied  rather  coldly,  and 
communicated  the  correspondence  to  the  House ;  but  noth- 
ing was  done,  except  a  reference  and  report.  The  stand, 
however,  taken  by  Randolph  in  the  House  at  this  session, 
drew  on  him  the  attention  of  the  country,  and  gave  an  earn- 
est of  the  distinction  he  was  destined  to  attain. 

The  election  of  1800-1  was  decided  in  favor  of  the  Re- 


173 

publicans.  But  the  vote  being  the  same  for  Jefferson  and 
Burr,  the  House  of  Representatives  had,  under  the  Consti- 
tution as  it  then  stood,  to  decide  between  them.  The  Fe- 
deralists, as  the  least  of  the  evils,  moved  thereto,  doubt- 
less, in  part,  by  the  intrigues  of  Burr,  preferred  him.  A 
long  contest,  with  many  ballotings,  occurred.  A  furor  of 
excitement  prevailed.  It  was  thought  the  government  was 
in  jeopardy.  Randolph  believed  that  it  was  only  saved 
by  the  patriotism  of  Alexander  Hamilton,  whose  powerful 
interposition  with  the  Federalists  was  successful  in  prevail- 
ing upon  them  to  withdraw  further  opposition  to  Jefferson ; 
an  interposition  which,  probably,  was  the  instigation  of 
Burr's  malignant  purpose  in  the  hostile  correspondence 
which,  a  few  years  afterwards,  he  had  with  Hamilton,  under 
another  pretext,  and  which  resulted  so  fatally  to  the  latter. 

Randolph  ever  afterwards  spoke  of  Hamilton  in  a  strain 
of  respect,  and  with  a  justice,  which  it  would  have  been 
more  creditable  to  Jefferson  if  he  had  imitated. 

Randolph  made  his  first  speech  in  the  next  Congress, 
(wnich  contained  a  Republican  majority,)  on  the  bill  to 
repeal  the  judiciary  act,  which  had  been  passed  in  the  last 
moments  of  the  late  administration.  This  act  provided  for 
the  appointment  of  a  large  and  unnecessary  number  of 
Federal  judges.  The  bill  of  repeal  was  resisted,  on  the 
ground,  that  the  Constitution  having  fixed  the  tenure  of  the 
judges'  office  for  good  behavior,  they  could  no  more  be  re- 
moved by  a  repeal  of  the  law,  than  by  an  act  passed  avow- 
edly to  remove  them.  But,  it  was  answered  by  Randolph, 


174  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

and  it  seems  to  us  rightly,  that,  if  the  former  law  was  a 
nuisance,  it  might  be  abolished,  though  the  effect  were  to 
displace  the  judges.  He  urged,  that,  if  the  object  was  not 
to  put  out  the  judges,  but  bona  fide  to  repeal  a  bad  law, 
under  which  the  judges  held  office,  the  repealing  law  was 
not  a  violation  of  the  Constitution.  This,  it  is  true,  is  deli- 
cate ground ;  for  when  the  Constitution  is  made  to  depend 
upon  the  motive  from  which  an  act  is  done,  it  ceases  to  have 
any  sanction  ;  or,  at  least,  the  Constitution  becomes  indeter- 
minate and  variable,  depending  upon  the  state  of  a  congress- 
man's conscience  or  his  own  account  of  that  state,  instead 
of  having  written  words  and  recognized  rules  of  construc- 
tion for  the  guide.  Many  of  the  Republican  members 
seem  to  have  thought  that  the  repeal  law  was,  at  least,  of 
questionable  propriety ;  and,  at  all  events,  not  a  favorable 
commentary  on  the  text,  which  the  Republicans  had  an- 
nounced, that  all  acts  of  doubtful  constitutionality  should 
be  avoided. 

Nathaniel  Macon,  of  North  Carolina,  was  chosen  Speaker 
of  the  House,  and  Randolph  appointed  Chairman  of  the 
Committee  of  Ways  and  Means.  He  went  to  work  assidu- 
ously in  the  important  business  of  his  position.  His  rela- 
tions, at  this  time,  with  Jefferson,  seem  to  have  been  cordial, 
politically  and  socially.  He  was  prominently  efficient,  in  the 
acts  making  provision  for  the  payment  of  the  public  debt, 
for  abolishing  unnecessary  offices  and  expenditures,  and  the 
other  reform  measures  of  the  new  administration.  The  great 
dissatisfaction,  which  the  excise  had  produced,  led  early  to 


DIRECT   TAXATION.  175 

the  abolition  of  the  internal  tax.  This  threw  the  burdens 
of  supporting  the  government  upon  fhe  importations.-  We 
think  it  very  questionable  whether  this  measure,  in  the  end, 
has  not  been  injurious  to  the  State-Rights  party.  It  made 
the  government  sit  too  lightly  upon  the  people.  The  masses 
of  the  people  of  any  country  feel  the  government  chiefly  in 
the  taxes.  The  tax  collector  brings  to  vivid  remembrance 
the  costs  of  governmental  luxuries.  Under  the  new  system, 
the  process  of  government  is  as  easy  as  the  process  of  breath- 
ing. Men,  not  knowing  what  they  pay,  nor  seeing  it  in  the 
bills  they  pay,  forget  that  they  pay  at  all.  Indeed,  under 
this  chloroform  process  of  extracting  taxes,  it  was  a  debated 
point  at  one  time,  whether  we  had  not,  by  the  ingenious 
contrivance  of  a  tariff,  fixed  it  so  that  foreigners  were  made 
to  pay  our  government  expenses.  Besides,  to  limit  the  power 
of  the  government,  its  expenditures  must  be  reduced.  If 
the  people  had  annually  to  pay  the  tax  collector,  they  would 
be  apt  to  scrutinize  the  items  in  the  bill,  and  to  make  them- 
selves acquainted  with  the  amount  and  course  of  expendi- 
tures. A  direct  tax  on  the  people  of  the  South  to  pay  the 
manufactories  of  the  North,  for  the  protection  and  en- 
couragement of  their  fabrics,  would  not  have  been  laid,  or, 
if  laid,  would  never  have  been  suffered  to  remain.  A  tythe- 
proctor  in  Ireland,  collecting  dues  from  the  Catholic  to  be 
squandered  in  high  living  by  the  English  heretical  bishop 
would  be  about  as  popular.  If,  as  Mr.  Webster  said,  we  are 
emphatically  a  debt-paying  people,  we  are  as  emphatically  a 
tax-hating  people.  The  pocket  sensibilities  of  the  great 


176  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

Yankee  nation  are  morbidly  acute.  We  think  the  State- 
Rights  politicians,  who  contended  that  the  Federal  govern- 
ment should  be  watched  with  suspicion,  and  especially  those 
of  them  who  desired  to  see  it  held,  if  not  in  odium,  at  least  in 
less  favor  than  the  state  governments,  missed  their  aim, 
when,  to  purchase  a  temporary  popularity,  they  removed  a 
system,  which  would  have  been  the  occasion  of  perpetual 
complaints  and  discontents  against  the  central  power. 

Soon  came  the  question  of  the  purchase  of  Louisiana. 
On  strict  State-Rights  principles,  this  measure  was  inadmis- 
sible. Jefferson  admitted  it  to  be  without  constitutional 
warrant.  He  defended  it  on  the  ground  of  necessity ;  but 
the  necessity  was  only  a  high  expediency.  It  seems  that 
Randolph  went  with  him. 

Then  came  the  impeachment  and  trial  of  Judge  Chase ; 
which,  we  think,  was  a  proceeding  that  owed  its  origin  very 
much  to  the  intemperance  of  party  zeal ;  and  which,  both  in 
conducting  it  and  in  its  result,  was  a  clear  failure.  Ran- 
dolph was  one  of  the  managers  before  the  Senate.  His 
efforts  there,  though  good  specimens  of  oratory  and  rhetoric, 
were  rather  a  foil  than  a  match  to  the  trained  forensic  skill, 
legal  learning,  and  rough  but  strong  logical  powers  of  Luther 
Martin. 

The  relations  of  this  country  with  Spain,  arising  from 
the  conduct  of  the  authorities  of  New  Orleans  in  regard  to 
the  navigation  of  the  Mississippi  river,  occupied  a  good 
deal  of  the  attention  of  Congress  and  of  the  Executive. 

On  the  whole,  the  first  term  of  the  Republican  adminis- 


RANDOLPH    IN    THE    HOUSE.  177 

tration  closed  with  honor,  and  largely  increased  popularity 
to  the  head  of  it,  and  with  great  benefit  to  the  people. 
Randolph  had  greatly  distinguished  himself,  not  only  as  an 
orator,  but  as  a  business  man ;  and,  by  his  industry,  intelli- 
gence, and  zeal  in  the  service,  had  raised  himself  to  the 
position  of  the  acknowledged  leader  of  the  party  in  the 
House.  Young,  admired,  distinguished,  in  high  favor  with 
the  Executive  and  the  party,  a  leading  representative  from 
the  leading  state  of  the  Union,  in  closest  correspondence  and 
intimate  relations  with  the  President,  and  allied  to  him  by 
blood,  on  a  high  sea-tide  of  party  popularity,  with  a 
character  pure  and  unsullied,  and  without  many  distinguish- 
ed rivals  in  his  own  ranks,  he  might  well  haveiooked  forward 
to  the  highest  rewards  of  ambition. 

But,  notwithstanding  all  these  things,  he  was  not  popu- 
lar ;  at  all  events,  he  had  made  many  violent  and  influential 
enemies.  His  manners  were  not  conciliating.  His  pride 
was  excessive.  He  neither  permitted  nor  indulged  in  fami- 
liarities. His  course  was  open,  above-board,  frank  and 
independent,  perhaps  self-willed,  certainly  impatient  of 
opposition,  and  not  tolerant  of  contradictory  opinions.  He 
was  not  an  out-doors  legislator — the  most  effective  of  all 
politicians.  He  did  not  practise  the  arts  of  managing  men. 
He  had  no  adaptation  to  the  dispositions  of  others.  He 
was  wanting  in  sympathy  with  his  associates ;  in  conciliation 
to  his  enemies.  He  had  no  concealments.  He  never  affect- 
ed any  liking  or  respect  when  he  did  not  feel  it ;  and  he  had 
liking  and  respect  for  but  few  men.  He  had  risen  rapidly  ; 
8* 


178  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

and  the  envy  that  always  follows  merit  ami  distinction,  was 
increased  by  the  haughty  manner  in  which  he  bore  himself 
towards  those  who  envied  him.  His  wit  was  in  his  way.  It 
was  not  genial  or  playful,  but  bitter  and  sarcastic.  For  the 
selfishness  and  meanness  of  interested  politicians,  he  had  an 
utter  loathing.  He  readily  saw  through  the  purposes  and 
motives  of  men ;  and  nothing  so  infuriates  a  base  mind  as 
the  consciousness  that  its  baseness  is  exposed. 

Randolph  was  a  bad  party-leader.  He  was  positively 
disqualified  by  nature  from  being  one.  We  do  not  speak  of 
leadership  as  it  has  often  appeared  in  our  day.  Any  man  of 
spirit  and  honesty  is  disqualified  for  such  a  position.  Ran- 
dolph was  more  so  than  most  men.  He  had  as  soon  been  a 
slave  as  a  tool  of  a  President  or  a  party.  He  had  as  soon 
worn  the  uniform  of  the  penitentiary  as  the  badge  of  official 
or  party  fealty.  He  had  died  before  he  could  come  into  the 
political  market,  with  his  soul  in  his  hand,  as  Whipple  some- 
where says,  asking  the  dispensers  of  Federal  bounty — "  How 
much  is  this  worth  ?  "  But  we  speak  of  a  leadership  honor- 
able in  itself,  and  consistent  with  the  claims  of  conscience 
and  self-respect.  He  had  not  the  temper  for  such  a  position. 
He  had  not  the  coolness,  the  tact,  the  knowledge  of  men,  the 
compromising  disposition,  the  forbearance,  the  conciliation, 
the  sympathy,  the  power  of  making  friends  of  the  many,  of 
drawing  to  himself  the  confidence  and  respect  of  others,  the 
sober  gravity  and  weight  of  character  which  befit  such  a 
place. 

He  had  earned  the  immortal  honor  of  exciting  against 


DISAPPOINTED    LOVE.  .179 

him  a  host  of  powerful  peculators  and  ravenous  leeches 
on  the  Federal  treasury.  The  large  list  of  prominent  men, 
interested  in  indemnity  for  the  repudiation  of  the  Yazoo 
grant,  were  banded  against  him.  He  had  attacked  that 
colossal  swindle,  in  terms  exhausting  all  the  epithets  of  in- 
dignant invective.  The  Yazoo  fraud  stands  to  common 
cheatery  as  the  expedition  of  Hyder  Ali  to  the  Carnatic 
coast,  stands  to  a  single  robbery  by  a  foot-pad.  It  was  a 
gigantic,  enormous,  imperial  fraud.  It  proposed  to  steal 
by  the  forms  of  legislation,  through  the  bribery  of  the  leg- 
islators, an  extent  of  country,  out  of  which  states  might 
be  formed,  passing  through  degrees  of  latitude  and  lon- 
gitude ;  the  descriptive  lines  being  rivers,  mountains,  and 
sea-shore.  Men  of  the  first  position  in  the  country,  in  Con- 
gress and  in  the  States,  were  largely  interested  in  the  busi- 
ness ;  and,  it  may  be  supposed,  felt  the  keenest  animosity 
against  those  who  opposed  the  realization  of  this  flagitious 
enterprise. 

(We  turn,  for  a  moment,  from  Randolph's  political  career, 
to  glance  at  him  in  more  private  aspects.  Randolph,  from 
his  youth,  seems  to  have  been  unhappy.  As  he  grew  older, 
he  seems  to  have  grown  more  unhappy.  A  private  grief 
weighed  heavily  upon  him  after  his  congressional  life  began. 
His  correspondence  shows  the  nature  of  this  grief.  He  was 
attached  to  a  young  lady  of  Virginia,  one  whom  he  loved,  as 
he  expresses  it,  "  better  than  his  own  soul  or  its  author." 
The  course  of  his  love,  as  with  most  first  loves,  did  not  run 
smooth.  Unlike  most  first  loves,  his  passion,  or  its  effect, 


180  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

never  lost  its  influence  upon  his  mind.  Long  years  after- 
wards, in  the  dreary  winter  of  his  sad  life,  in  the  mutter- 
ings  of  delirium,  he  called  her  name.  There  is  but  little 
sympathy,  amongst  the  mass  of  men,  with  the  woes  of  lovers ; 
and  an  affair  of  the  heart,  however  grievously  afflicting,  like 
the  tooth-ache,  is  more  a  matter  of  ridicule,  than  of  com- 
passion. But  in  a  temper  so  sensitive  as  Randolph's,  so 
morbidly  sensible  to  pain ;  to  a  nature  so  proud,  so  passion- 
ate, so  exclusive  in  the  objects  of  its  affections  and  trust,  a 
love,  once  fixed,  was  a  permanent  influence  ;  and  the  dissolu- 
tion of  such  a  tie  would  leave  the  heart,  ever  afterwards, 
desolate  and  bleeding. 

He  had,  in  youth,  contracted  an  intimacy  with  a  young 
gentleman  of  the  name  of  Thompson.  The  friendship  seems 
to  have  been  unusually  ardent  and  disinterested.  Thompson 
was  a  man  of  gaiety  and  wit,  and  of  fine  social  qualities,  but 
dissipated  in  his  habits,  and  infirm  in  his  purposes.  He 
had  sunk  low  in  his  associations  and  reputation,  in  conse- 
quence of  these  irregularities.  Randolph,  however,  did  not 
desert  him,  nor  did  he  abate,  in  the  least,  his  attentions  and 
interest  in  him.  The  letters  written  to  this  unhappy  you^g 
man,  do  Randolph  the  highest  credit.  They  show,  in  lively 
colors,  the  real  nobleness  of  his  soul.  We  have  never  chanc- 
ed to  see  any  letters  which  breathe  a  more  delicate,  a  more 
ardent,  and  a  more  generous  friendship.  They  show  more 
than  this.  They  show  a  love  of  truth,  a  loftiness  of  princi- 
ple, and  a  courage  and  fidelity  in  discharging  the  morp  un- 


JOE    BRYAN.  181 

gracious  duties  of  friendship,  which  only  a  good  and  a  great 
man  could  exhibit. 

Randolph  procured  for  him  an  office  in  Louisiana ;  and 
the  young  man,  with  many  resolutions  of  amendment,  started 
to  go  to  that  territory  to  assume  its  duties ;  but  he  died  on 
the  way. 

Another  intimate  friend  of  Randolph's  boyhood  was  Jo- 
seph Bryan,  of  Georgia,  a  mad-cap,  frolicking,  dashing,  jo- 
vial, light-hearted,  warm-souled  fellow  as  ever  cracked  a  bot- 
tle or  a  jest.  These  light  traits  were  but  the  froth  that 
stronger  qualities  threw  to  the  top.  Joe  took  to  politics, 
got  to  be  a  member  of  Congress,  and  married  a  lovely  girl. 
His  loving  heart  now  ran  over  with  happiness ;  and,  looking 
out  on  life  as  a  long  day  of  sunshine,  he  gives  utterance  to 
his  joy  after  such  a  fashion  that  we  feel  almost  as  happy  as 
himself  in  sympathy  with  his  bliss.  Alas  !  a  year  or  two 
passed,  and  laughter-loving,  warm-hearted,  whole-souled  Joe 
Bryan  died ;  the  lovely  bride  died,  too ;  and  two  children 
were  left  orphans,  one  of  them  named  after  Randolph. 
Randolph  became  a  father  to  the  children,  and  John,  his 
namesake,  was  years  afterwards  married  to  his  niece. 

It  seemed  as  if  a  fatality  was  about  him,  that  all  to 
whom  his  heart  clung,  of  the  early  objects  of  attachment, 
were  torn  from  him. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Jefferson's  Second  Term — Our  Foreign  Eelations — State  of  Europe — President's  Con- 
duct—Randolph Opposes  the  Administration— Denounced  by  his  Party— Returns 
Home — Illness  and  Unhappiness. 

THE  ninth  Congress  commenced  its  session  under  the  second 
term  of  Jefferson.     So  far  affairs  had  gone  on,  every  thing 
considered,  smoothly  enough.     But  now  every  thing  betok- 
ened a  stormy  and  troubled  period.      Our  foreign  relations 
were  complicated  to  an  extent  never  known  before.     Never 
was  there  a  time  which  required  more  the  higher  qualities 
of  statesmanship.     With  Spain,  with  France,  and  with  Eng- 
land, our   relations   were  of  the  most   delicate  character. 
Europe  was  in  uproar  and  conflagration.     One  continuous 
note  of  hostile  preparation  and  conflict  resounded  through- 
out the  continent.     Whole  nations  were  in  camp,  and  the 
memorable  war  for  the  life  of  dynasties  and  kingdoms  was 
raging  with  a  fury  and  determination  worthy  of  the  stake. 
The  modern  Alexander  was  seeking  to  complete  the  subjuga- 
tion of  the  world.     But  one  obstacle  stood   in   his  way. 
Twenty  miles  of  sea  rolled  between  his  camp  and. England. 


ENGLAND  AND  FRANCE.  183 

He  could  see,  but  could  not  reach,  the  last  fortress  of  free- 
dom in  the  old  world.  England  was  mistress  of  the  seas. 
He  looked  out  from  Calais  to  the  white  cliffs  of  Dover,  and 
gnashed  his  teeth,  in  impotent  rage,  at  the  little  space  of 
water  that  kept  him  from  his  spoil.  Nelson  had  swept  the 
French  fleet  and  that  of  her  allies  from  the  water.  Every 
body  knew — indeed,  either  rival  boldly  proclaimed,  that  the 
war  was  a  war  for  the  extermination  of  the  adverse  power. 
Two  nations,  the  first  powers  of  all  the  world,  hereditary 
and  immemorial  enemies  and  rivals,  whose  past  histories 
blazoned,  in  every  glowing  page,  the  brightest  achievements 
that  art  or  arms  had  ever  won ;  brave,  chivalrous,  ambi- 
tious, proud,  vain,  vindictive,  jealous,  burning  with  the  ima- 
gined or  real  wrongs  and  insults  of  centuries,  under  their 
most  renowned  captains  and  statesmen,  in  the  eyes  of  the 
world,  and  to  the  grief  or  joy  of  all  generations  to  come, 
were  to  fight  out  the  battle  which  was  to  determine  their 
own  fate  and  fame,  the  empire  of  the  world,  and  the  sway 
of  aH,  or  nearly  all,  mankind. 

The  man  of  destiny  had  carried  every  thing  before  him. 
His  prodigious  genius  seemed  even  less  than  his  prodigious 
fortune.  His  career  was  a  history  of  prodigies.  He  took 
kingdoms  as  other  warriors  take  forts.  He  ran  up  his  flag 
over  capitals,  as  other  generals  fly  theirs  over  fortresses. 
His  imperial  banner  hovered,  like  the  wing  of  the  Destroy- 
ing Angel,  over  the  great  battle-fields  to  which  he  led  his 
conquering  legions.  Monarchs  sued  at  his  feet,  and  great 
kings  were  proud  to  be  his  allies  and  subordinates.  Eng- 


184  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

land  alone,  the  prouder  and  the  loftier  in  her  heroic  isola- 
tion, stood  up  against  his  progress  and  defied  his  power ;  and 
England  was  the  most  feared  and  the  most  hated  of  all  his 
foes.  She  had  resisted  at  once  his  arts  of  conciliation  and 
his  arms.  She  prepared  herself  for  the  conflict.  Single- 
handed  and  alone,  she  held  him  at  bay ;  firm  and  unmoved 
in  her  majestic  port,  against  a  world  in  arms. 

In  this  state  of  things — England  all  powerful  on  the  seas, 
Bonaparte  all  powerful  on  the  land,  each  straining  every 
nerve  to  injure  the  other,  holding  that  to  be  the  highest 
earthly  object,  the  very  purpose  and  only  security  of  exist- 
ence— it  could  not  be  otherwise  than  that  neutral  rights  and 
nations  must  suffer  detriment. 

Upon  Spain,  our  claims  for  redress  and  for  settlement 
of  vexatious  difficulties,  seemed  first  in  time,  and  the  most 
urgent  in  character.  She  had  acted  in  a  spirit  of  haughty 
and  characteristic  insolence.  She  was  nearest  to  our  ter- 
ritory. She  refused  to  recognize  a  convention,  signed  by 
her  own  minister  under  the  eye  of  the  sovereign.  She 
disputed  our  boundaries,  menaced  our  frontier,  and  protest- 
ed against  our  possession  of  Mobile.  She  had  committed 
spoliations  on  our  commerce  ;  for  which,  after  keeping  our 
minister  dallying  at  court  for  five  months,  she  refused  in- 
demnity. In  the  language  of  Randolph,  "  Great  Britain, 
indeed,  had  impressed  our  seamen,  and  advanced  certain  in- 
jurious principles  of  national  law,  which,  if  carried  into  their 
full  extent,  would  materially  affect  our  commerce ;  but  that 
Spain,  after  having  refused  to  make  good  her  solemn  stipu- 


WRONGS    OF    SPAIN.  185 

lations  to  compensate  us  for  former  spoliations  committed 
on  our  commerce,  had  renewed  the  same  practices  during 
the  present  war."  She  had  not,  it  is  true,  impressed  our 
seamen,  but  her  cruisers  "  had  plundered  and  sunk  our  ves- 
sels, and  maltreated  and  abandoned  their  crews  in  open 
boats,  or  on  desert  shores,  without  food  or  covering.'1  "  Her 
Courts  of  Admiralty  had,  indeed,  advanced  no  new  princi- 
ples of  the  law  of  nations,  but  they  had  confiscated  our 
ships  and  cargoes,  without  the  pretext  of  principles  of  'any 
sort,  new  or  old.  She  had,  moreover,  insulted  our  territory, 
violated  the  property  and  persons  of  our  citizens  within  our 
acknowledged  limits,  and  insolently  rejected  every  overture 
to  accommodation.  With  Spain  all  of  our  attempts  to  nego- 
tiate had  died." 

Such,  too,  seemed  to  be  the  views  of  the  Executive. 
There  would  have  been  short  work  with  Spain,  had  not  other 
parties  stood  in  the  way.  To  have  blown  her  out  of  the 
water,  or  run  her  off  the  land,  would  have  been  only  holiday 
refreshment.  But  France  seemed  to  back  her  ;  and  a  war 
with  ijer  would  have  been  war  with  France,  too  ;  besides,  in 
the  confused  and  complicated  state  of  things  in  Europe,  lead- 
ing, probably,  to  other  difficulties. 

The  supremacy  of  England  on  the  ocean,  naturally  made 
her  desirous  of  realizing  its  advantages  to  annoy  and  cripple 
her  adversaries  as  much  as  possible.  The  destruction  of 
trade  between  France  and  her  colonies  and  allies  was  one  of 
the  chief  of  these  advantages.  But  the  keen  enterprise  of 
our  countrymen  saw  the  opening,  offered  by  this  state  of 


186  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

things,  to  a  neutral  nation,  and  became  the  dealers  in  and 
carriers  of  the  subjects  of  this  trade,  under  the  protection 
of  the  American  flag.  Not  only  was  a  legitimate  commerce 
carried  on  in  this  way,  but  the  American  name  and  flag, 
through  a  process  of  -fictitious  assignments,  were  fradulently 
used  by  belligerent  owners  of  vessels.  By  these  means,  vast 
profits  accrued  to  our  merchants.  Immense  fortunes  were 
made  by  our  shippers.  England  was  thus  deprived  of  the 
benefits  she  had  promised  herself  from  her  maritime  ascend- 
ency. To  remedy  this,  the  orders  in  council  were  issued, 
which  declared  the  whole  coast  from  Brest  to  the  Elb,  in  a 
state  of  blockade  ;  the  consequence  of  which  was  an  interdic- 
tion of  commerce  with  the  blockaded  ports,  under  pain  of 
the  forfeiture  of  the  cargo  and  vessel.  Bonaparte  rejoined, 
by  issuing  his  Berlin  decree,  by  which  England  and  her 
ports,  and  their  commerce,  were  placed  under  a  like  inter- 
dict. 

There  were  other  questions  with  England.  The  denial 
of  the  right  of  expatriation,  and  her  consequent  seizure  of 
our  citizens,  natives  of  Great  Britain,  and  the  search  for  and 
seizure  of  seamen  in  our  ships,  were  subjects  of  complaint ; 
indeed  the  popular  and  moving  grievance  that  led  to  the 
war. 

It  were  a  very  easy  thing  to  have  made  terms  with  either 
of  the  belligerents  ;  but  this  would  have  been  war  with  the 
other.  As  it  stood,  we  had  good  cause  of  war  with  both. 
We  desired  neutrality.  We  wished  no  entangling  alliances. 
We  desired  to  reap  the  rich  harvest  which  a  neutral  position 


OUR    DIFFICULT    POSITION.  187 

must  have   given  r.s.     We  were  after  trade,  not  war — for 
money,  not  blood. 

Unfortunately,  we  had  no  navy,  or  next  to  none.  Had 
the  Federal  policy  been  pursued,  and  a  navy,  adequate  to  the 
exigencies  of  the  public  service,  been  provided,  we  might 
have  protected  our  marine  and  our  commerce  on  the  ocean. 
Nay,  England  would  probably  have  shrunk  from  encounter- 
ing us  on  the  sea,  where,  if  not  alone  equal  to  her  in  naval 
force,  we  might,  in  conjunction  with  her  enemies,  have  im- 
perilled her  supremacy.  At  any  rate,  we  could  have  reta- 
liated any  assaults  she  might  have  made  upon  our  merchant- 
men. From  our  mercantile  marine,  we  could  easily,  and 
at  short  notice,  have  increased  our  naval  force,  to  have  an- 
swered any  additional  demand  upon  it  by  the  war.  But  the 
spirit  of  party  had  left  us  without  this  right-arm  of  our 
national  defence. 

In  this  anomalous  and  awkward  posture,  what  was 
to  be  done  ?  If  we  sided  with  England,  France  would 
be  down  upon  us ;  and  if  England  should  be  subjugated, 
or  withdraw  from  the  contest,  the  might  of  the  arch-de- 
stroyer would  descend  upon  our  unprotected  coasts  ;  and 
Spain,  standing  ready  to  assist  from  her  adjoining  provinces, 
would,  possibly,  deprive  us  of  our  large  South-Western  ac- 
quisitions. If  we  went  to  war  with  England,  our  vast  com- 
merce upon  the  sea  would  be  the  spoil  of  her  navy,  and  our 
coast  cities  be  imperilled ;  while  we  would,  of  course,  lose 
the  fruits  of  the  neutral  position  we  occupied. 

But  the  spirit  of  our  people  was  up  for  war.     The  old 


188  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

hatred  to  England  was  still  a  dominant  principle  among  the 
Republican  party  ;  and  the  old  friendship  for  France,  notwith- 
standing the  excesses  and  despotism  which  she  illustrated,  was 
still  a  strong  influence  with  our  people.  Besides,  Jefferson's 
whole  policy,  in  the  early  organization  and  history  of  his  party, 
had  been  governed,  as  by  a  chart,  by  enmity  to  England — 
kindness  to  France.  His  popularity  was  based  in  good 
part  on  the  hatred  of  the  masses  to  England. 

The  impulses  of  the  highest  chivalry  would  have  led 
Congress  to  have  thrown  down  the  gauntlet  to  England, 
Spain  and  France  !  It  looks,  at  the  first  blush,  like  mad- 
ness for  a  young  nation  to  have  done  so  ;  but  as  there  could 
have  been  no  concert  between  the  belligerents,  and  either, 
going  out  to  fight  us,  would  probably  have  encountered 
the  other,  we  do  not  know  that  it  would  have  increased,  a 
great  deal,  the  danger ;  while  it  would  have  crowned  the 
young  Republic — it  matters  not  what  the  result,  short 
of  subjugation,  was — with  a  glory  beyond  all  Greek  and 
Roman  fame. 

The  suggestion  of  a  far-seeing,  self-aggrandizing  policy 
would  have  been  an  alliance  with  England,  and  a  conquest, 
and  seizure  in  consequence  thereof,  of  the  Floridas  and  Cuba, 
and  the  "  re-annexation  "  of  Texas  and  half  of  Mexico. 

There  was  another  course  recommended  by  present 
safety,  and  great  plausibility.  It  was  that  of  Randolph  : 
To  prepare  to  meet  and  expel  every  encroachment  by  Spain 
upon  our  territory,  and  to  protect  our  possessions ;  and,  in 
respect  to  the  others,  to  hold  the  maxim  to  apply  in  interna- 


JEFFERSON'S  CONDUCT.  189 

tional  as  in  municipal  law — "  Inter  arma  leges  silent :  " — to 
postpone  a  demand  for  satisfaction  and  settlement,  for  wrongs 
inflicted  by  the  belligerents,  until  the  parties  got  cool  and 
sober,  and  the  war  in  Europe  was  at  an  end ;  making  prepa- 
rations to  sustain  our  demand  when  that  time  should 
come. 

Jefferson,  we  think,  was  not  the  man  for  the  crisis.  He 
was  not  distinguished  for  executive  functions,  in  times  of 
difficulty  and  danger.  His  conduct  in  the  Revolutionary 
war,  when  he  was  Governor  of  Virginia,  is  proof  of  this  ob- 
servation. He  was  bold  of  speculation,  and  an  adroit  and 
successful  politician.  But  he  was  not  intrepid  and  deter- 
mined in  action,  when  bold  issues  were  to  be  met,  and  great 
responsibilities  to  be  assumed.  He  had  not  Jacksonism 
enough  in  him  to  be  a  great  leader  in  a  war  movement.  In 
the  present  crisis,  he  had  no  policy.  He  had  a  vague  idea 
that  something  ought  to  be  done,  without  seeming  to  know 
precisely  what.  The  Constitution,  his  position  and  the  na- 
ture of  his  office  required  him  to  recommend  measures  to 
Congress.  He  recommended  nothing  intelligible  and  defi- 
nite. He  told  Congress,  he  should  execute  their  will  with 
zeal.  Congress  seems  to  have  had  as  little  will  as  himself. 
There  was  but  little  talent  in  that  body.  There  seemed  to 
be  no  unity  or  agreement  in  the  members.  Every  man  had 
his  own  project,  and  no  man  a  good  one.  There  was  no  au- 
thentic or  catholic  creed,  or  chart,  or  leader. 

On  the  Spanish  question,  the  President  said  :  "  Formal 
war  is  not  necessary :  it  is  not  probable  it  will  follow  ;  but 


190  JOHN   RANDOLPH. 

the  protection  of  our  commerce,  the  spirit  and  honor  of  our 
country  require  that  force  should  be  interposed  to  a  certain 
degree ;  it  will  probably  contribute  to  advance  the  object  of 
peace.  But  the  course  to  be  pursued  will  require  the  com- 
mand of  meafts,  which  it  belongs  to  Congress  exclusively  to 
deny  or  yield.  To  them  I  communicate  every  fact  material 
for  their  information,  and  the  documents  necessary  to  enable 
them  to  judge  for  themselves.  To  their  wisdom,  then,  I 
look  for  the  course  I  am  to  pursue,  and  will  pursue  with 
zeal  that  which  they  shall  approve." 

Judge  of  Randolph's  surprise,  when  the  President  in- 
formed him  that  the  means  here  spoken  of  were  two  mil- 
lions of  dollars,  which  the  President  wished  appropriated 
for  the  purchase  of  Florida.  In  committee  of  the  House, 
Bidwell,  of  Massachusetts,  construed  the  message  into  a 
requisition  of  money  for  foreign  intercourse.  If  any  doubt 
could  remain,  it  would  have  been  removed  by  Mr.  Madison, 
the  Secretary  of  State,  who  told  Randolph,  that  France 
would  not  permit  Spain  to  adjust  her  differences  with  us  \ 
that  France  wanted  money,  and  that  we  must  give  it  to  her 
or  have  a  Spanish  and  French  war.  In  other  words,  that 
we  must  pay  tribute  to  France  for  her  consent  for  us  to  trade 
with  Spain !  The  course  Randolph  took,  in  reply  to  this 
indirect  and  humiliating  proceeding  and  its  explanations,  was 
characteristic.  He  boldly  rebuked  it.  He  rebuked  the 
course  of  the  President  in  seeking  to  throw  the  responsibil- 
ity on  Congress  of  doing  what  he  secretly  wished,  and  yet 
would  not  openly  recommend ;  and  he  closed  the  interview 


RANDOLPH  DENOUNCES  THE  PRESIDENT.        191 

with  Madison,  by  abruptly  leaving  him,  with  the  remark : 
"  Good  morning,  sir  !  I  see  I  am  not  calculated  for  a  poli- 
tician !  " 

Randolph  spoke  in  the  House  with  great  force  and  power 
against  the  bill,  appropriating  this  money,  to  be  used  at  the 
President's  discretion.  He  attacked  it  on  principle.  He 
exposed  the  disingenuousness  of  the  whole  proceeding.  It 
was  in  the  course  of  this  debate  that  a  Mr.  Varnurn  declared 
that  the  bill,  opposed  as  it  seemed  to  be  to  the  message,  was 
in  unison  with  the  secret  wishes  of  the  Executive.  Ran- 
dolph attacked  him  with  great  eloquence  and  caustic  sever- 
ity. He  denounced  "  this  back-stairs  influence,  this  double 
dealing,  the  sending  one  message  for  the  journals  and  news- 
papers, and  another  in  whispers  to  this  House.  I  shall  al- 
ways," said  he,  "  reprobate  such  language  ;  and  consider  it 
unworthy  of  any  man  holding  a  seat  in  this  House.  I  had 
before  always  flattered  myself,  that  it  would  be  a  thousand 
years  hence  before  our  institutions  would  have  given  birth 
to  these  Charles  Jenkinses  in  politics." 

Such  was  the  language  of  John  Randolph  on  this  occa- 
sion ;  and  right  bold  and  manly  language  it  was,  befitting 
the  lips  of  an  independent  representative,  in  response  to  the 
secret  dictation  of  the  Executive.  Randolph  thus  broke 
ground  against  the  party  in  power ;  and,  for  the  future,  con- 
tinued in  opposition  to  the  most  important  measures  of  the 
Jefferson,  Madison,  and  Monroe  administrations. 

The  President  made  no  recommendation  of  specific 
measures  to  Congress,  in  reference  to  our  -relations  with 


192  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

England ;  but  the  tone  and  temper  of  the  correspondence 
between  the  two  countries,  and  the  representations  of  our 
grievances  in  the  messages,  show  that  the  present  posture  of 
affairs  could  not  long  continue.  Something,  it  was  evident, 
must  be  done.  Neither  consistency  nor  the  outside  pressure 
would  allow  the  government  to  stand  still ;  and  the  Presi- 
dent was  not  prepared  to  go  to  war.  The  only  alternative 
seemed  to  be,  a  middle  ground,  a  sort  of  compromise  be- 
tween peace  and  war.  If  we  could  not  resist,  we  could  show 
resentment.  If  we  could  not  fight,  we  might  growl.  Accord- 
ingly, Mr.  Gregg  brought  in  his  non-intercourse  resolutions, 
cutting  off  commercial  correspondence  with  Great  Britain. 
This  was  neither  a  war  measure  nor  a  peace  measure,  but 
something  between  both.  Randolph  vehemently  opposed 
it.  He  was  for  war,  direct  and  open,  if  we  must  fight  at  all. 
He  said,  "  If  war  is  necessary,  let  us  have  war.  But  while 
I  have  life,  I  will  never  consent  to  these  incipient  war 
measures,  which,  in  their  commencement,  breathe  nothing  but 
peace,  though  they  plunge  us,  at  last,  into  war."  He 
argued  against  it  as  a 'war  measure,  and  against  an  offensive 
war,  as  contrary  to  the  Constitution.  "  I  declare,"  said  he, 
"  in  the  face  of  day,  that  this  government  never  was  in- 
stituted for  the  purposes  of  offensive  warfare.  No ;  it  was 
framed  (to  use  its  own  language)  for  the  common  defence  and 
general  welfare,  which  are  inconsistent  with  offensive  war.  I 
call  that  offensive  war  which  goes  out  of  our  jurisdiction 
and  limits,  for  the  attainment  or  protection  of  objects  not 
within  those  limits  or  that  jurisdiction.  As  in  1798,  I  was 


A    SINGULAR    FACT.  193 

opposed  to  this  species  of  warfare,  because  I  believed  it  would 
naze  the  Constitution  to  its  very  foundation,  so,  in  1806,  am 
I  opposed  to  it  on  the  same  grounds." 

As  to  the  impressment  of  our  seamen,  Randolph  thought 
that  it  afforded  just  grounds  for  indignant  resentment,  but 
he  saw  no  reason  for  putting  that  matter  to  extremity  now, 
more  than  at  any  time  within  the  preceding  five  years. 

It  is  one  of  the  most  singular  facts  of  history,  that,  in 
regard  to  the  policy  towards  England,  there  was  no  official 
recommendation  or  opinion,  either  of  the  President,  or  of 
the  Cabinet,  as  individuals  or  collectively;  and  that  the 
President  declared  openly  that  he  had  none ! 

The  resolution  of  Gregg  was  modified,  so  as  to  exclude 
only  certain  enumerated  articles,  and  not  to  make  a  total  ex- 
clusion of  all  subjects  of  traffic.  The  bill,  thus  modified, 
passed;  eighty-seven  Republicans  voting  for,  and  eleven 
against  it.  The  Federalists  went  against  it  en  masse.  The 
whole  opposition  was  only  twenty-four. 

Randolph's  course  drew  down  upon  him  great  odium  from 
the  friends  of  the  administration.  It  could  not  be  other- 
wise. A  bolder  and  more  unqualified  assault  was  never 
made.  The  tone  of  it  was  as  decided  and  as  daring  as  the 
matter.  There  was  no  mincing  of  words,  or  hinting,  or  hesi- 
tating, or  glossing  over  unpalatable  truths.  It  was  a  vehe- 
ment onslaught,  and  the  eloquence,  the  ability,  the  boldness 
must,  have  carried  consternation  to  those  in  power,  as  well 
as  indignation  for  the  exposures  he  had  made  of  their  du? 
plicity  and  want  of  courage.  Jefferson  says,  in  his  letters, 
9 


194  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

that  Randolph  "  did  flutter  the  Volscii  "  of  the  House  for  a 
while,  but  they  rallied  again. 

A  charge  was  made  against  Randolph,  that  he  had  taken 
this  course  in  resentment  against  the  administration  for  not 
appointing  him  minister  to  England.  It  seems,  that  some 
friend  of  Randolph's  suggested  his  name,  without  his  know- 
ledge, to  the  President,  for  this  appointment ;  and  that  the 
President  declined  to  make  the  nomination.  It  is  highly 
probable  that  such  a  circumstance  would,  if  known  to  him, 
have  excited  the  eager  resentment  of  Randolph,  whose 
vindictiveness  was  easily  aroused,  and  very  difficult  to  ap- 
pease ;  and  this  fact  may  have  lent  some  poignancy  to  his 
feelings  in  his  opposition  to  these  measures  of  the  Executive. 
But  we  feel  sure,  that  it  did  not  induce  the  course  he  took. 
He  acted,  as  he  always  did,  in  public  matters,  upon  public 
grounds  and  from  his  convictions.  His  bearing  was  not  that 
of  a  renegade.  He  did  not  turn  his  arms  against  his  old 
principles,  nor  his  back  upon  his  old  friends.  He  professed 
no  toleration  for,  he  made  no  fusion  with,  his  old  enemies, 
the  Federalists.  He  was  willing,  after  this  trouble  vanished, 
to  act  with  the  party  where  he  could  consistently  do  so.  His 
course  was  in  unison  with  the  principles  he  had  ever  profess- 
ed ;  and  he  gave  such  reasons  for  it  as  ought  to  satisfy  any 
reasonable  man  that,  if  he  were  not  right,  yet  he  might  well 
believe  he  was. 

In  this  same  session,  the  filibustering  proceedings  of 
Burr  were  brought  up  for  action.  The  Senate,  in  a  tremor 
of  excitement,  on  a  verbal  hint  from  Jefferson,  passed  a  bill 


RANDOLPH  CHALLENGES  T.  M.  RANDOLPH.       195 

suspending  the  Habeas  Corpus.  Randolph  opposed  it  in 
the  House,  and  had  a  marked  agency  in  suppressing  so  un- 
necessary a  proceeding. 

The  session  drew  to  a  close.  It  terminated  in  scenes  of 
disorder.  A  systematic  attack  seems  to  have  been  made 
upon  Randolph,  by  the  friends  of  the  President,  in  the  last 
hours  of  the  session.  Among  others,  the  son-in-law  of  Jef- 
ferson, and  a  relative  of  Randolph,  Mr.  T.  M.  Randolph, 
assailed  him  with  strong  personalities.  Randolph  challeng- 
ed him ;  but  the  affair  was  settled  by  an  apology  from  the 
assailant,  from  his  place  on  the  floor  of  the  House. 

Randolph  returned  to  his  lonely  retreat  at  Bizarre,  with 
a  title  to  the  respect  and  admiration  of  his  countrymen,  pur- 
chased at  the  expense  of  all  the  favor  he  had  won,  and  all  the 
applause  and  position  he  had  gained,  from  his  party,  and  of 
all  his  hopes  of  promotion  from  its  power  and  influence.  He 
had  preserved  his  independence.  He  had,  consistently  with 
Republican  principles,  upheld  the  rights  and  privileges  of 
the  Representative  character.  He  had  opposed  principles, 
as  he  honestly  believed,  at  war  with  the  interests  and  char- 
acter of  the  Republic.  In  a  day,  he  found  himself  tabooed 
and  ignored.  He  found  himself  covered  with  odium.  He 
saw  the  fruits  of  long  service  wither  beneath  the  blasts  of 
executive  hostility.  The  independence  of  a  month  had 
swept  away  the  memory  of  the  service  of  years. 

He  did  not  enjoy  the  quiet  and  repose  of  his  retreat.  A 
fatal  disease,  inherited  from  his  parents,  lurked  in  his  sys- 
tem. He  was  prostrated  by  it.  Indeed,  during  the  last 


196  JOHN   RANDOLPH. 

hours  of  the  session,  he  was  racked  by  horrible  pains  of 
body,  to  which  the  excitement  and  troubles  of  his  spirit 
added  torment.  For  long  weeks,  he  lay  upon  his  bed  suf- 
fering unutterable  misery.  The  lady  of  his  early  love  and 
romantic  passion  married  another.  He  had  cherished  her 
image  as  the  idol  of  his  soul.  He  had  abandoned  the  hope 
of  being  united  to  her  in  marriage ;  but,  it  seems,  looking 
away  from  grosser  views,  he  thought  that  a  Platonic  relation 
might  exist  between  them.  The  austere  man,  proud,  exclu- 
sive, repulsive,  had  yet  in  his  heart,  cold  and  hard  as  it 
seemed  towards  the  world,  one  spot,  warm  and  bright — 
amidst  boisterous  seas,  a  little  emerald  isle,  decked  with 
flowers  and  vocal  with  melody,  and  inhabited  by  the  fair 
being,  whom  he  idolized  as  the  ideal  of  all  that  was  pure  and 
bright  of  womanhood  and  beautiful  on  earth. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Difficulties  with  England— Monroe's  Treaty— The  Affair  of  the  Chesapeake— The 
Embargo— Eandolph  opposes  it — Jefferson  against  a  Navy — Gun-Boats — Non- 
Importation  Act — Madison's  Election — Randolph  prefers  Monroe— "War  Measures 
— War — Eandolph  opposes  it — Clay  and  Calhoun  in  Congress. 

ANOTHER  meeting  of  Congress.  The  difficulties  with  Eng- 
land became  aggravated.  The  restrictions  had  worked  no 
cure.  They  had  hurt  ourselves,  but  not  the  enemy.  Monroe 
had  signed  a  treaty  with  England  in  December,  1806.  This 
promised  a  settlement  of  existing  difficulties.  Monroe  was 
proud  of  it,  and  was  felicitating  himself  upon  the  credit  it 
would  do  him  at  home.  But  the  Berlin  decree  coming  to 
the  knowledge  of  the  ministry,  the  English  commissioners 
added  a  note  that,  if  France  should  execute  that  decree,  and 
our  government  acquiesce,  the  treaty  should  be  of  no  effect 
Jefferson  boldly  pocketed  the  treaty,  and  there  it  ended. 
The  truth  is,  it  had  got  to  be  almost  as  dangerous  to  make 
peace  as  war.  The  outrage  on  the  Chesapeake  unfortunately 
occurred  about  this  time.  It  excited,  of  course,  great  exas- 
peration. But  an  English  minister  was  sent  to  disavow  the 


198  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

outrage.  Some  technical  punctilio  was  interposed  to  prevent 
any  advances  and  explanations. 

The  people  were  hot  for  war,  and  for  war  with  England. 
The  "  fierce  Democracie  "  were  boisterous  and  vehement  for 
fight.  The  policy  of  England  and  France  was  driving  us 
from  the  ocean.  The  advantages  of  a  neutral  position  were 
being  lost,  while  all  the  evils  of  proximity  to  the  scenes  of 
hostility  were  upon  us. 

The  President  now  recommended  an  embargo  upon  our 
vessels.  "  France  and  England  were  told  " — we  quote  from 
Mr.  Garland — "  that  it  was  not  conceived  in  a  spirit  of  hos- 
tility to  them,  but  was  a  mere  municipal  regulation.  The 
truth  was,  however,  and  they  did  not  fail  to  perceive  it,  that 
the  whole  object  of  withdrawing  our  commerce  from  the 
ocean,  was  to  operate  on  those  two  nations.  It  was  intended 
te  starve  France  and  her  dependencies,  and  to  break  Eng- 
land, unless  they  would  abandon  their  absurd  pretensions 
over  the  rights  of  neutral  nations.  But  when  this  happy 
result  would  take  place,  it  was  impossible  to  tell.  For  a 
measure  of  this  kind  to  come  home  to  the  bosoms  and  the 
business  of  a  great  nation,  must  necessarily  take  a  very  long 
time.  Indeed,  it  was  reasonable  to  suppose  that  the  desired 
object  never  could  be  accomplished  in  that  way.  The  re- 
sources of  England  and  of  France  were  too  great  and  too 
varied,  to  be  seriously  affected  by  a  suspension  of  even  the 
whole  of  American  commerce.  The  event  proved  what,  it 
would  seem,  a  little  forethought  ought  to  have  anticipated. 
After  the  embargo  had  been  in  operation  for  twelve  months, 


EFFECT   OF    THE    EMBARGO.  199 

those  two  nations  were  no  nearer  being  forced  into  terms 
than  they  were  at  first ;  while  their  spirit  of  hostility  was 
greatly  exasperated. 

"  But  what  effect  did  the  measure  have  on  affairs  at 
home — on  the  character  of  our  people  ?  Here  it  was  dis- 
astrous in  the  extreme.  An  embargo  is  the  most  heroic 
remedy  that  can  be  applied  to  state  diseases.  It  must  soon 
run  its  course,  and  kill  or  cure  in  a  short  time.  It  is  like 
one  holding  his  breath  to  rush  through  flame  or  mephitic 
gas ;  the  suspension  may  be  endured  for  a  short  time,  but 
the  lungs  at  length  must  be  inflated,  even  at  hazard  of  suffo- 
cation. Commerce  is  the  breath  that  fills  the  lungs  of  a 
nation,  and  a  total  suspension  of  it  is  like  taking  away  vital 
air  from  the  human  system  ;  convulsions  or  death  must  soon 
follow.  By  the  embargo,  the  farmer,  the  merchant,  the 
mechanic,  the  capitalist,  the  ship-owner,  the  sailor,  and  the 
day-laborer,  found  themselves  suddenly  arrested  in  their 
daily  business.  Crops  were  left  to  rot  in  the  warehouses ; 
ships  in  the  docks ;  capital  was  compelled  to  seek  new 
channels  for  investment,  while  labor  was  driven  to  every 
shift  to  keep  from  starvation. 

"  Sailors  seeing  the  uncertain  continuation  of  this  state 
of  things,  flocked  in  great  numbers  to  the  British  navy.  That 
service  which,  in  former  years,  they  most  dreaded,  necessity 
now  compelled  them  to  seek  with  avidity.  Smuggling  was  ex- 
tensively carried  on  through  the  whole  extent  of  our  wide- 
spread borders ;  the  revenue  was  greatly  reduced ;  and  the 
morals  of  the  people  were  greatly  corrupted  by  the  vast  temp- 


200  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

tations  held  out  to  evade  the  laws.  It  is  difficult  to  tell  on 
what  classes  of  the  community  this  disastrous  measure  did 
not  operate.  On  the  planting  and  shipping  interest,  per- 
haps, it  was  most  serious.  On  the  one,  it  was  more  im- 
mediate, on  the  other,  more  permanent,  in  its  evil  conse- 
quences." 

These  views  are  so  sensible  and  so  well  expressed,  that 
we  will  not  weaken  their  force  by  elaborating  them.  It  has 
been  seen  that  the  Executive  denied  that  the  embargo  was  a 
war  measure.  Upon  his  own  principles,  how  was  it  consti- 
tutional ?  Under  what  clause  of  the  Constitution,  strictly 
or  loosely  construed,  did  it  come  ?  What  specific  grant 
would  have  been  rendered  nugatory  without  it  as  a  means  of 
execution  ?  The  effects  of  the  measure  upon  the  country 
were  disastrous  to  the  last  degree.  "Well  did  Randolph  say, 
"  It  was  the  Iliad  of  our  woes."  It  ravaged  and  desolated 
like  the  march  of  an  invading  army.  We  punished  our- 
selves, but  England  was  not  starved  into  concession. 

With  her  navy  sweeping  the  face  of  the  sea,  and  gather- 
ing products  from  every  clime,  and  tribute  from  every  shore, 
it  were  as  idle  to  expect  to  starve  her  by  withholding  our 
breadstuff's,  as  to  attempt  to  bale  out  the  ocean  with  a  tin- 
cup.  After  trying  it  for  a  year  or  more,  it  was  abandoned. 
The  Legislature  of  Massachusetts,  taking  example  from 
Virginia,  declared  it  unconstitutional,  and,  the  fiercest  op- 
position to  it  having  been  aroused,  threatened  the  integrity 
of  the  Union.  Jefferson  thought  that  it  would  have  an- 


JEFFERSON  OPPOSES  A  NAVY.  201 

swered  its  purpose,  if  we  could  only  have  waited  a  little 
longer ! 

Randolph,  with  all  his  power  and  eloquence,  opposed  this 
measure. 

The  President  advised  that  our  ships  should  be  kept 
from  the  sea,  and  laid  up  in  dignified  retirement  in  our  own 
ports;  a  suggestion  which,  to  our  gallant  tars,  doubtless 
seemed  like  the  advice  to  a  man  of  spirit,  to  lock  himself  up 
in  his  house,  for  fear  some  ruffian  might  attack  him  on  the 
street.  Randolph  held  a  different  language.  He  advised 
the  arming  of  the  commercial  marine,  and  to  let  it  go  out  on 
the  paths  of  a  lawful  commerce,  repelling  all  force  and  inva- 
sion from  every  quarter. 

Jefferson  opposed  the  building  of  a  navy,  upon  the 
ground  that  we  would  only  be  building  ships  for  the  Brit- 
ish. He  thought  that  gun-boats,  to  protect  the  harbors, 
would  be  the  best  provision  for  the  protection  of  our  coast. 

How  cruel  was  the  injustice  done  to  that  little  navy, 
planted  with  a  niggard  hand,  and  growing  up  in  the  neglect 
and  under  the  frowns  of  the  government,  but  which,  in  a  few 
short  years,  won  such  trophies  on  the  ocean,  that  Canning 
was  forced  to  declare  on  the  floor  of  the  British  Parlia- 
ment, that  it  had  broken  the  spell  of  the  naval  invincibility 
of  England  ! 

The  non-importation  act,  of  kindred  nature  to  the  em- 
bargo, though  milder  in  its  bearing  upon  our  interests,  suc- 
ceeded that  measure. 

Jefferson's  term  was  about  expiring,  and  preparations 
9* 


202  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

were  made  for  the  succession.  Madison,  late  Secretary  of 
State,  was  the  favorite  of  the  Republicans.  Mr.  Monroe 
was  a  rival  aspirant.  Randolph  advocated  his  pretensions, 
and  bitterly  opposed  Madison.  A  sharp  contest  was  the  re- 
sult. But  the  Republican  opposition  to  Madison  had  more 
talent  than  numbers.  The  result,  as  we  know,  was  the  elec- 
tion of  Madison ;  and  Mr.  Monroe,  after  serving  for  a  time 
as  Governor  of  Virginia,  was  called  into  his  cabinet. 

The  old  difficulties  with  the  belligerent  powers  of  Eu- 
rope continued  to  be  the  engrossing  themes  of  political  in- 
terest. At  one  time,  a  good  prospect  for  peace  seemed  to 
open  upon  our  relations.  A  law  was  passed  by  Congress, 
authorizing  the  President  to  proclaim  a  renewal  of  commer- 
cial relations  with  either  of  the  belligerents,  who  should  re- 
peal its  decrees  as  to  us.  Great  Britain  had  promised  to  do 
this,  if  France  would  repeal  her  illiberal  interdict ;  having 
only,  as  she  declared,  prohibited  neutral  trade  to  France 
and  her  colonies,  in  retaliation  for  the  French  interdict 
against  neutral  trade  with  her.  France,  accordingly,  repeal- 
ed her  decrees  so  far  as  we  were  concerned,  with  this  modi- 
fication, however,  that  British  manufactures  should  not  be 
carried  to  her  ports,  &c.,  in  American  ships.  England  re- 
fused, on  account  of  this  modification,  to  repeal  her  orders, 
declaring  that  the  true  meaning  of  her  proposition  was,  that 
when  we  should  be  restored  to  all  our  neutral  rights  by 
France,  she  would  act  in  the  same  way.  The  effect  of  the 
modification  will  be  seen  at  once ;  as,  without  it,  English 
goods,  accumulated  for  many  years  in  her  warehouses  for 


WAR    MEASURES.  203 

want  of  a  market,  could  be  sold  as  readily  through  Ame- 
rican ships  in  the  interdicted  markets,  as  if  there  were  no 
war  ;  and  hence,  Napoleon's  whole  restrictive  system  against 
Great  Britain  would  be,  in  a  great  measure,  if  not  entirely, 
countervailed.  We  answered,  that  so  far  as  we  wished  it, 
the  French  interdict  was  removed,  and  that  England  was, 
therefore,  bound  to  go  pari  passu  with  France. 

Then  came  the  called  session  of  181 1-12,  and  a  warlike 
message,  and  another  embargo,  to  last  for  ninety  days  ;  and 
at  the  end  of  that  time,  to  be  followed,  as  was  understood, 
by  hostilities  with  England,  if  our  grievances  were  not  re- 
moved. Mr.  Madison,  it  seems,  was  opposed  to  the  embar- 
go ;  but  it  was  forced  upon  him.  He  wished  the  period  for 
the  conditional  commencement  of  hostilities  to  be  extended 
to  the  4th  of  August.  Had  this  course  been  adopted,  there 
would,  probably,  have  been  no  war  ;  for,  on  the  23d  of  June, 
just  five  days  after  the  declaration  of  war,  a  change  having 
been  effected  in  the  British  ministry,  the  orders  in  council 
were  repealed,  so  far  as  they  affected  this  country.  But  it 
was  too  late,  of  course,  to  arrest  the  war.  All  these  war 
proceedings  Randolph  opposed.  Whatever  anticipated 
want  of  energy  and  efficiency — if  there  was  any  such  want — 
existed  in  the  Executive  department,  was  more  than  supplied 
by  the  zeal  and  ability  of  the  Legislature.  The  crisis  had, 
as  usual,  brought  out  the  great  men.  This'  Congress  was  a 
very  different  affair  from  the  pliant,  subservient  tools  that 
registered  the  edicts  of  the  past  administration.  The  lead- 
ers now  were  men  of  the  first  talents  that  have  ever  appeared 


204  JOHN   RANDOLPH. 

on  the  theatre  of  public  action.  Henry  Clay  was  in  the 
chair  of  the  House,  John  C.  Calhoun  in  the  chair  of  the 
Committee  of  Foreign  Relations  ;  and  they  were  supported 
by  a  strong  corps  of  auxiliaries. 

Randolph  had  competitors  now  who  could  put  him  up 
to  a  strain  of  his  great  abilities ;  nay,  who  were,  to  say 
the  least,  full  matches  for  him  when  at  his  highest  mark  of 
excellence.  He  was  no  longer  the  sun  of  the  House,  extin- 
guishing all  other  lights  by  the  effulgence  of  his  blaze. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Clay— Calhoun— Contrast  between  Clay  and  Randolph. 

THE  leading  champions  of  the  war  party,  in  the  House,  were 
Henry  Clay  and  John  C.  Calhoun.  These  men,  now  great 
historic  names,  were  first  appearing  upon  the  national  thea- 
tre. They  were  younger  than  Randolph  in  public  service 
as  well  as  in  years.  We  think  it  unfortunate  for  all  three 
that  they  attained  eminence  of  position  so  soon.  It  had 
been  better  for  their  lasting  fame,  if  they  had  risen  by*  de- 
grees into  prominence,  and  had  developed  and  matured,  by 
slower  stages,  their  powers  of  intellect  and  their  political 
principles.  They  sprang,  at  once,  almost  from  boys  to 
statesmen.  By  a  single  leap,  they  vaulted,  like  young 
giants,  into  the  first  places  of  fame  and  influence.  Doubtless, 
the  enthusiasm  and  fervor  of  youth  were  important  elements 
of  success  to  leaders  of  a  war  movement ;  but  it  was  next  to 
impossible  that  a  sudden  elevation,  like  theirs,  should  not, 
to  some  extent,  prove  unpropitious  to  those  studious  habits, 
that  cautious  preparation,  that  philosophic  judgment,  and 


206  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

those  matured  and  far-sighted  views,  essential  to  highest 
statesmanship. 

Randolph's  sagacity  enabled  him  to  take,  at  a  glance,  the 
measure  of  the  young  giants.  "  We  shall  have  war  now," 
he  said,  "  those  young  men  have  their  eyes  on  the  presiden- 
tial chair."  If  a  harsh  judgment,  it  must  be  confessed,  this 
was  a  shrewd  guess. 

Throughout  the  prolonged  discussions  on  foreign  re- 
lations, Randolph  and  Clay  seemed  to  be  pitted  against 
each  other.  For  Calhoun,  Randolph  had  more  of  cour- 
tesy and  kindness.  It  was  very  natural  that  he  should. 
Though  Calhoun,  to  say  the  least,  in  the  higher  intel- 
lect, was  fully  equal  to  Clay,  or  to  Randolph,  he  could 
scarcely  be  considered  then,  if  at  any  time,  a  rival  to  either 
in  oratory.  His  manner  was  senatorial.  He  was  decorous 
in  debate,  singularly  free  from  personalities,  making  no 
pretensions  to  what  is  called  brilliancy,  and  indulging 
very  sparingly  in  declamation.  Clay  was  a  more  effective 
popular  speaker.  Calhoun  was  a  great  debater  ;  Clay  a 
great  orator.  Calhoun  spoke  from  his  intellect;  Clay 
as  much  from  his  feelings.  It  was  utterly  impossible  for 
two  such  men  as  Clay  and  Randolph  to  be  friends,  whether 
on  the  same  side,  or  any  other.  There  was  too  much  will, 
too  much  impatience,  too  much  ambition,  too  little  yield- 
ing and  compromising,  too  much  equality  of  intellectual 
gifts,  and  too  little  congeniality  of  character  and  disposition, 
except  upon  points,  where  to  be  alike  must  lead  to  a 
difference.  The  rival  positions  of  Clay  and  Randolph 


RANDOLPH  AND  CLAY  CONTRASTED.         207 

led  to  a  good  deal  of  bitterness  of  feeling,  and  to  fre- 
quent, spirited  and  acrimonious  sparrings,  from  which  the 
Speaker's  chair  did  not  always  protect  the  former.  Ran- 
dolph complained  that  Clay  took  the  advantage  of  him,  in 
putting  a  test  question  to  the  House,  as  to  the  war,  and 
in  so  ruling  points  of  order  against  him,  as  to  cut  off  free 
debate. 

The  contrast  between  Randolph  and  Clay,  will  convey  a 
clearer  idea  of  the  character  of  the  former.  These  men  were 
the  most  remarkable  personages  of  the  Congress  of  1812, 
and  were  severally  the  leaders  of  their  respective  parties. 
We  think,  on  the  whole,  that  Randolph  was  not  nearly  so 
great  a  leader ;  not  that  the  intellectual  differences  were  so 
marked  as  other  qualities,  even  more  essential  than  great 
intellect,  for  leadership.  Both  were  men  of  great  eloquence, 
every  where  and  in  every  thing  eloquent.  Both  were  men 
of  high  moral  and  personal  courage ;  of  chivalrous  and  gal- 
lant carriage  ;  of  instantaneous  command  of  varied  resources 
in  debate;  self-reliant;  well-informed,  if  not  learned,  in  all 
the  information  immediately  connected  with  public  affairs ; 
and  singularly  gifted — as  most  popular  orators  are — with  a 
happy  facility  in  stating  and  reasoning  upon  facts.  They 
seemed  to  have  preferred  this  matter-of-fact  mode  of  discuss- 
ing public  questions  to  subtle  theoretic  disquisitions,  or  to 
arguments  based  on  abstract  principles.  But  the  character 
of  their  eloquence,  as  well  as  their  manner,  was  very  differ 
ent.  Randolph  had  more  wit.  Indeed,  he  was  unequalled 
in  this  effective  weapon  of  debate.  He  had  too  much  of  it. 


208  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

It  was  not  genial,  but  bitter,  sardonic,  sarcastic.  It  ran 
through  and  colored  every  thing  he  did,  and  every  thing  he 
said.  It  gave  an  edge  to  his  most  powerful  arguments.  It 
gave  piquancy  to  his  most  beautiful  statements.  It  prefaced, 
or  rounded  off  even  some  of  the  most  exquisite  passages  of 
his  pathos.  He  had  the  rare  faculty  of  condensing  an  argu- 
ment into  a  single  sentence,  and  he  could  distil  that  sentence 
into  a  biting  sarcasm.  In  knowledge  and  skill  in  the  use 
of  language,  too,  he  was  Clay's  superior,  if,  indeed,  any 
American  speaker  or  writer — for  he  wrote  as  well  as  he 
spoke — ever  equalled  him  in  his  astonishing  attainments  and 
aptitude  in  this  respect.  He  not  only  expressed  himself 
clearly  and  fully,  but  his  words  were  the  most  appropriate 
the  English  tongue  afforded,  for  the  expression  of  the  exact 
idea  and  the  exact  shade  of  idea  he  designed  to  convey. 
This  was  not  all.  His  exquisite  and  almost  faultless  taste 
embellished  his  opulent  resources,  and  his  sentences  were 
musical,  harmonious  and  beautiful.  •  Yet  his  style  was  an 
Apollo,  that  exhibited  masculine  beauty  only  as  the  best  form 
of  health  and  strength.  He  had  the  rare  faculty  of  painting 
a  picture  or  a  character  by  a  single  word — a  faculty  which 
Mirabeau  possessed  in  so  great  perfection.  His  ideality 
was  larger  than  Clay's.  Indeed,  he  had  enough  of  imagina- 
tion to  have  written  "  Childe  Harold ;  "  and  he  is  the  only 
man  we  have  ever  heard  of,  who  could  have  written  it.  His 
fancy,  also,  was  richer  and  more  active.  It  is  difficult  to 
say  whether  Randolph  or  Clay  had  better  powers  of  narra- 
tion. Both  were  accurate.  The  narrative  of  both  was 


RANDOLPH   AND    CLAY.  209 

vivid,  clear  and  easy.  Randolph  was  more  piquant,  fresh, 
racy,  pictorial ;  Clay  more  close,  compact,  dignified  and 
imposing. 

Randolph's  intellect  had  more  cultivation.  He  drew 
more  on  the  resources  of  others.  His  taste  was  more  pure, 
and  he  had  more  comparisons,  quotations,  anecdotes,  inci- 
dents, from  the  old  classics  and  the  new,  from  our  own  and 
foreign  literature,  especially  the  English  plays  and  satires. 
Clay  scarcely  ever  made  a  quotation  or  a  classical  allusion ; 
and  those  he  did  make  were  usually  close  at  hand,  or  had 
gotten  into  general  circulation  before  he  saw  them.  Ran- 
dolph said  more  brilliant  things,  more  uncommon  things, 
more  things  that  could  not  be  said  by  any  one  else.  He 
was  always  interesting  and  instructive. 

Clay  was  sometimes  vapid,  and  sometimes  dull.  It 
required  a  great  occasion  or  unusual  excitement  to  bring 
him  fully  out.  The  manner  of  the  two  was  in  striking  con- 
trast. Clay,  irregular  of  feature,  with  nothing  but  a  lofty 
brow  wid  a  bright  eye  to  redeem  his  face  from  uncommon 
plainness,  was  commanding  and  dignified  in  his  place,  with 
features  changing  expression,  with  pliant  ease,  in  sympathy 
with  his  feelings  and  thoughts.  Both  were  graceful  in 
gesture  and  action  when  speaking,  though  not  remarkable 
usually  for  grace  of  movement.  Clay's  voice  was  unequalled. 
Full,  musical,  sonorous,  flexible,  never  hoarse  or  obstrep- 
erous, though  sometimes  too  loud  for  good  taste,  it  was 
adapted  to  every  subject  and  mood,  and  was  especially 
potent  in  lofty  and  impassioned  declamation,  and  in  daring 


210  JOHN   RANDOLPH. 

and  indignant  invective.  In  the  mere  carte  and  tierce  of 
digladiation — in  those  passages  of  arms,  in  which  personal 
matters  made  up  the  staple  of  the  speech,  Randolph  had 
usually  the  advantage.  In  raillery,  as  galling  as  Canning's, 
in  subtle  irony,  delicate  and  insinuated  satire,  covert  scorn, 
and  short  and  pungent  witticisms,  sudden  surprises,  ingenious 
turns,  and  sharp  transitions  from  other  subjects  to  a  striking 
personality — in  short,  in  all  the  arts  of  an  accomplished 
satirist,  Randolph  was  an  adept.  Clay  was  more  direct,  and 
less  ingenious  and  flexible.  He  came  at  once  to  what  he 
meant  to  say.  He  could  not  restrain  his  impetuosity,  and 
put  his  indignation  or  resentment  under  the  tuition  of  his 
art.  Randolph  was  unequalled  in  one  thing — in  blending  his 
sarcasm  with  his  argument,  so  that  he  did  not  have  to  wander 
from  the  text  to  say  bitter  things.  He  rounded  off  the 
argument  by  some  allusion  or  comparison,  which  was  good 
as  an  illustration,  and  biting  as  a  sarcasm.  Randolph  looked 
the  embodiment  of  satire.  Tall,  emaciated,  bloodless,  the 
flashing  eyes,  blazing  over  the  livid  cheek,  the  skeleton 
finger,  the  proud  and  classic  features,  cold  and  unsympa- 
thizing,  or  flush  with  indignant  scorn,  the  haughty  air,  the 
sneering  lips,  the  sharp,  bony  face,  and  the  keen,  shrill,  piping 
voice,  slow,  distinct,  deliberate  in  its  varied  and  most  artistic 
enunciation,  made  up  a  manner  which  gave  the  fullest  effect 
to  intellectual  qualities,  so  well  answering  to  these  organs 
of  communication.  There  was  nothing  theatrical  in  all  this, 
though  Randolph  was  the  most  eccentric  of  men.  His 
eccentricities,  unlike  most  men's,  so  far  from  proceeding 


RANDOLPH   AND    CLAY.  211 

from  vanity,  came  from  a  self-dependence  and  self-will,  con- 
sulting his  own  taste  and  feelings,  and  almost  wholly  re- 
gardless of  the  taste  and  opinions  of  the  world,  if  not  ac- 
tually scorning  them.  Probably,  no  other  man  of  his  time 
could  express  scorn  with  such  withering  effect.  He  felt 
more  scorn  than  he  uttered,  even  when  his  utterance  was 
most  extravagant.  His  pride  was  morbid — Lucifer-like.  His 
dislike  transformed  the  object  into  a  thing  of  utter  meanness 
and  boundless  contempt.  It  is  galling  enough  for  a  man  to 
feel  that  another  man  looks  upon  him  with  contempt ;  but  to 
be  under  the  basilisk  eye  of  one  who,  in  a  tone  of  measure- 
less superiority,  looking  the  lord  and  master,  barely  con- 
descends to  treat  the  gentleman  with  the  contemptuous  re- 
cognition of  a  trembling  culprit,  and  to  administer  to  him 
judicial  chastisement  for  his  crimes,  or  impale  him  for  his 
follies — to  mark  him  out  by  his  wit  for  the  general  derision, 
and  coolly  dismiss  him  to  contempt,  as  an  object  worthy  of 
no  further  notice — this  is  a  burden  which  few  men  have  the 
philosdphy  to  bear  with  composure. 

Clay  had  considerable  humor.  He  had  a  good  deal  of 
aptitude  for  ridicule.  But  it  was  better  natured.  He  laugh- 
ed when  he  excited  laughter.  He  had  little  propensity  to 
sneer.  Randolph's  laughter — if  he  ever  indulged  in  it — was 
the  dry,  short  laughter  of  a  derisive  contempt.  But  Clay 
had  the  advantage  in  invective.  There  was  frequently  a 
coarseness  in  the  Philippics  of  both,  which  marred  their  style. 
But  Clay's  invective  was  mixed  with  and  colored  by  an  hon- 
est, and  usually  a  generous  indignation.  It  was  always  as- 


212  JOHN   RANDOLPH. 

sociated  with  some  high  principle,  which  had  been  outraged, 
or  was  excited  by  some  act  of  cruelty  or  oppression,  some 
flagrant  desecration  of  a  patriotic  or  moral  duty,  or  by  an 
unfeeling  or  unjust  assault  upon  himself,  his  friends  or  his 
party.  There  was  at  least  something  human  in  it.  Even 
when  most  violent  and  vindictive,  it  seemed  a  fierce  explo- 
sion of  uncontrollable  wrath  upon  the  head  of  the  foe.  Ran- 
dolph's was  more  like  a  cold-blooded  torture  at  the  stake,  or 
a  deliberate  pressing  of  the  red-hot  branding-iron  into  the 
smoking  and  hissing  flesh  of  his  writhing  victim. 

Clay's  eloquence  was  better  adapted,  on  the  whole,  for 
popular  effect.  His  sympathies  were  large  and  active,  and 
with  the  masses.  His  opinion  of  men  was  higher.  There 
was  a  frankness  and  generosity  about  him,  that  conciliated, 
in  advance,  the  favor  of  the  hearer.  He  addressed  the  bet- 
ter and  kinder  feelings  and  impulses,  with  unrivalled  skill. 
He  was  plausible,  even  when  not  sound.  He  had  the  tem- 
perament that  insures  popular  favor ;  sanguine,  bold,  confi- 
dent, adventurous.  There  was  something  leonine  in  his 
gait,  look,  action.  He  came  up  to  every  question  and  to 
every  antagonist,  without  skulking  or  hesitation.  No  man 
was  ever  freer  from  prevarication,  indirection  or  equivo- 
cation. Even  Gen.  Jackson  pronounced  him  "  a  magnani- 
mous rascal."  He  had  all  the  requisites  of  leadership.  He 
was  easily  approached,  practical,  familiar;  yet  dignified, 
social,  kind,  generous,  manly,  bold,  enterprising  ;  of  great 
skill  in  reading  men ;  rapid  in  taking  his  cue ;  quick  to  see 
and  seize  an  advantage ;  firm  and  constant  to  his  principles 


CLAY  AS  A  PARTY  LEADER.  213 

and  his  party ;  and  of  a  will  and  a  spirit  that  could  not  be 
subdued  or  broken.  He  rallied  a  broken  party,  reanimated 
the  hopes  of  the  despairing,  led  on  a  forlorn  hope  as  if  assur- 
ed of  victory,  and  never  knew  when  to  give  up  or  abandon 
a  field.  Though  few  men,  if  any  man,  ever  equalled  him  as  a 
party  leader  in  debate,  this  was  not  his  most  effective  position. 
While  Randolph  was  preparing  his  arguments  and  sarcasms 
in  his  solitary  room,  or  in  company  with  one  or  two  friends, 
Clay  was  going  about  from  room  to  room,  from  mess  to  mess, 
from  party  to  party,  from  man  to  man,  countervailing  all 
opposition ;  explaining  arm-in-arm  to  this  man  ;  refuting  an 
argument  to  that,  as  the  cards  were  shuffled ;  in  cosy  confi- 
dence with  another,  over  a  glass  of  wine  ;  prevailing  by  force 
of  reason  and  persuasion,  with  the  member  from  North 
Carolina — by  force  of  will  with  the  member  from  Kentucky ; 
making  himself,  in  this  sense,  "  all  things  to  all  men  that  ho 
might  win  some."  There  was  a  contagion  in  his  enthusiasm 
which  communicated  his  spirit  to  his  friends.  Personally,  he 
was  at  this  time  very  popular.  It  could  not  be  otherwise. 
Like  Fox,  his  principles  in  his  hot  prime  were  better  than 
some  of  his  practices  ;  but,  like  Fox,  his  heart  was  warm ; 
and  his  free  manners  were  forgiven  in  favor  of  the  strong 
and  manly  virtues  and  ardent  affections,  which  were  the 
basis  of  his  character.  If  the  hands  went  wrong  frequently, 
the  mainspring  was  always  right.  His  vices  were  all  warm- 
blooded vices,  and  these  are  of  all  faults  the  most  easily 
forgiven  ;  indeed,  we  are  not  sure,  when  in  association  with 


214  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

such  lofty,  generous  and  chivalrous  characteristics  as  those 
of  Clay,  whether  they  are  not  elements  of  popularity. 

What  sort  of  chance  could  the  aristocratic  anchorite 
stand  against  such  a  tribune,  especially  before  the  rough 
backwoods  legislators,  now  coming  in  from  the  new  states, 
representing  a  population  clamorous  for  war,  as  another  name 
for  patriotism  ? 

We  think  Clay  the  more  eloquent  man  of  the  two.  He 
spoke  with  more  enthusiasm,  with  more  loftiness,  with  better 
adaptation  to  the  hearts  of  men ;  and  this  is  the  most 
effective  office  of  eloquence.  It  takes  more  than  brains  to 
make  a  man.  To  convince  the  judgment  even,  you  must 
often  do  more  than  show  it  a  good  reason.  You  must  en- 
list the  heart,  for  it  sways  the  brains.  But  it  was  not  merely 
by  appeals  to  the  sensibilities  of  men,  that  Clay  was  eloquent, 
In  the  discussion  of  questions,  mainly  to  be  determined  by 
facts — whether  equal  to  other  men  in  more  abstract  questions 
or  not — no  man  of  his  day  could  meet  him  before  a  popular 
audience.  His  style,  though  carefully  cultivated,  was  not 
the  best.  It  had  considerable  clearness  and  beauty,  but  it 
wanted  terseness,  variety  and  vigor  as  prominent  character- 
istics. It  had,  as  his  speeches  read,  something  of  monotony 
in  the  regular  roll  and  measured  flow  of  the  Roman  sen- 
tences ;  but  this  blemish  was  not  perceived  when,  in  deliver- 
ing his  speeches,  his  magnificent  voice,  and  animated  and 
varied  manner,  gave  to  his  language  new  point  and  effect. 
He  spoke  best  off-hand.  His  sudden  bursts  of  passionate 
emotion,  when  freshly  animated  by  some  noble  and  heroic 


RANDOLPH  AS  AN  ORATOR.  215 

conception,  swelled  out  his  utterance  and  expression  into  the 
sublimest  strains  of  eloquence.  In  this  great  and  telling 
power,  ^Randolph  was  wanting.  In  particular  passages,  he 
was  brilliant  as  Curran  and  Grattan ;  in  all,  he  was  inter- 
esting, enchaining  attention,  gratifying  an  exquisite  taste, 
imparting  instruction,  and  frequently  moulding  conviction ; 
but  the  permanent  impression  left  was  not  so  strong.  He 
had  no  faculty  of  making  men  in  love  with  his  views  or 
conclusions,  so  that  they  did  not  desire,  and  could  not  en- 
dure, opposition  to  them.  And  then  the  stream  of  bitter- 
ness which  he  poured  through  his  speeches,  was  unfriendly 
to  that  moral  effect  which  is  the  highest  office  of  eloquence, 
by  exciting  and  purifying  the  moral  sensibilities,  and  mak- 
ing the  triumph  of  the  orator  the  triumph  of  virtue  itself. 
He  upbraided  like  an  enemy,  instead  of  rebuking  like  a 
judge.  Randolph  was  irregular,  episodical,  wandering 
sometimes  from  his  subject ;  but  the  episodes  were  so  de- 
lightful, that,  like  some  of  the  chapters  of  Cervantes,  the 
reader  ^regrets  the  return  to  the  main  story.  Clay  was  often 
diffuse,  but  seldom  strayed  from  the  text.  Old  Dr.  Speece, 
of  Augusta,  Ya,,  used  to  say  he  would  rather  listen  to  Ran- 
dolph's nonsense,  than  to  any  body  else's  sense.  Randolph, 
skipping  over  processes  of  reasoning,  frequently  struck 
upon  views  so  deep,  so  subtle  and  penetrating,  and  so  hap- 
pily expressed,  that  they  were  cherished  more  than  the  most 
elaborate  reasoning.  He  had  the  great  advantage  of  a  style, 
singularly  pure,  yet  unique  and  picturesque ;  and  so  con- 
densed in  particular  passages,  that  his  sayings  were  long  re- 


216  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

membered,  and  had  the  currency  of  axioms.  No  speaker  of 
his  day  gave  his  hearers  so  much  to  reflect  upon,  and  so 
many  things  to  remember.  If  his  mind  were  not  of  the 
largest  calibre,  it  may  be  doubted  if  he  were  ever  excelled, 
by  any  of  his  countrymen,  in  the  keenness  and  subtlety  of 
his  intellect,  and  the  clearness  and  vividness  of  his  concep- 
tions, or  in  the  almost  supernatural  sagacity  with  which  he 
saw  the  tendency  of  events  and  the  characters  of  men.  The 
tissue  of  his  mind  was  of  Damascus  fineness ;  the  fibre  close 
and  compact.  Though  without  the  force  and  bulk  of  Clay's, 
it  had  more  keenness,  polish,  and  finish.  When  Clay  and 
he  came  together,  it  was  as  the  battle-axe  of  Richard 
against  the  cimeter  of  Saladin.  And  these  men  were  now  in 
violent  opposition,  and  were  to  continue  a  course  of  bitter 
and  defiant  hostility  until  long  years  afterwards,  when  they 
became  reconciled,  under  circumstances  highly  honorable  to 
them  both. 


CHAPTER    IX 

Randolph's  Speeches  against  the  War— His  Moral  Heroism— Calhoun'B— Randolph's 
Feelings  towards  England— Excitement  against  Randolph— Defeated  for  Con- 
gress bv  Eppes — Goes  into  Retirement. 

RAIS'DOLPH  opposed  the  declaration  of  war  with  all  his  pow- 
ers. His  speeches  on  this  question  were  the  noblest  and 
most  eloquent  of  his  life.  He  knew  he  was  sacrificing  every 
thing  by  this  opposition.  The  public  exasperation  had 
reached  its  height.  The  policy  of  inculcating  hostility  to 
England  as  a  virtue  had  brought  forth  its  fruit.  The  equi- 
vocating and  time-serving  course  heretofore  pursued,  could 
not  be  continued  longer.  The  people,  especially  the  warlike 
population  of  the  interior  settlements,  demanded  war ;  and 
men  were  now  in  Congress  who  were  willing  to  take  the  lead 
in  bringing  it  on. 

Randolph's  position  was  heroic.     Right  or  wrong,  he 

showed  himself  a  man  true  to  his  principles,  and  ready  to  be 

sacrificed  for  what  his  judgment  assured  him  was  the  right. 

He  did  not  wish  war  at  all,  because  he  saw  that  war  was  ad- 

10 


218  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

verse  to  our  interests,  and  to  what  he  regarded  as  the  true 
principles  of  our  government.  He  saw  and  deprecated  the 
effect  of  an  offensive  foreign  war  upon  the  relations  of  tlie 
State  and  Federal  governments.  Above  the  clamors  of  the 
crowds  shouting  for  war  with  England,  above  the  yells  and 
screams  of  the  excited  populace  in  public  meetings,  and  the 
storm  of  fierce  denunciations  poured  out  against  himself,  was 
heard  his  shrill,  piping  voice  crying  out  for  peace. 

As  we  look  back  upon  this  scene,  we  are  reminded  of  a 
later  example  of  the  same  lofty  heroism.  We  allude  to  the 
day  when  John  C.  Calhoun,  in  the  American  Senate,  pale, 
emaciated,  his  eyes  glaring,  and  his  frame  quivering  with  ex- 
citement, lifted  up  his  voice  alone,  in  that  august  body,  in 
opposition  to  the  Mexican  war ;  and,  trembling  with  pas- 
sionate patriotism,  swore  that  he  would  strike  a  dagger  to 
his  heart,  before  he  would  vote  for  an  unjust  war,  heralded 
in  by  a  lying  preamble  ! 

But,  more  especially,  Randolph  did  not  desire  war  with 
England.  He  had  no  prejudices  against  England.  He  saw 
and  condemned  her  faults.  He  did  not  justify  her  conduct 
towards  us.  But  he  remembered  that  we  were  of  the  blood 
and  bone  of  her  children.  He  remembered  that  we  spoke 
her  language,  and  that  we  were  connected  with  her  by  the 
strongest  commercial  ties  and  interests ;  that,  though  we  had 
fought  her  through  a  long  and  bloody  war,  yet  we  had  fought 
her  by  the  light  of  her  own  principles  ;  that  her  own  great 
men  had  cheered  us  on  in  the  fight ;  and  that  the  body  of 
the  English  nation  were  with  us  against  a  corrupt  and  venal 


ENGLAND.  219 

ministry,  when  we  took  up  arms  against  their  and  our 
tyrants.  He  remembered  that  from  England  we  had  in- 
herited all  the  principles  of  liberty,  which  lie  at  the  basis  of 
our  government — freedom  of  speech  and  of  the  press;  the 
Habeas  Corpus ;  trial  by  jury  ;  representation  with  taxation ; 
and  the  great  body  of  our  laws.  He  reverenced  her  for  what 
she  had  done  in  the  cause  of  human  progress,  and  for  the 
Protestant  religion ;  for  her  achievements  in  arts  and  arms  ; 
for  her  lettered  glory;  for  the  light  shed  on  the  human 
mind  by  her  master  writers ;  for  the  blessings  showered  by 
her  great  philanthropists  upon  the  world. 

He  saw  her  in  a  new  phase  of  character.  Whatever 
was  left  of  freedom  in  the  old  world,  had  taken  shelter  in 
that  island,  as  man,  during  the  deluge,  in  the  ark. 

She  opposed  the  only  barrier  now  left  to  the  sway  of  un- 
limited empire,  by  a  despot,  whom  he  detested  as  one  of  the 
most  merciless  and  remorseless  tyrants  that  ever  scourged 
this  planet.  Deserted  of  all  other  men  and  nations,  she 
was  not  dismayed.  She  did  not  even  seek — such  was  the 
spirit  of  her  prodigious  pride — to  avoid  the  issue.  She  de- 
fied it.  She  dared  it — was  eager — fevered — panting  for  it. 
She  stood  against  the  arch-conqueror's  power,  as  her  own 
sea-girt  isle  stands  in  the  ocean — calm  amidst  the  storm  and 
the  waves  that  blow  and  break  harmlessly  on  the  shore.  She 
was  largely  indebted,  but  she  poured  out  money  like  water. 
Her  people  were  already  heavily  taxed,  but  she  quadrupled 
the  taxes.  She  taxed  every  thing  that  supports  or  embel- 
lishes life,  all  the  elements  of  nature,  every  thing  of  human 


220  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

necessity  or  luxury,  from  the  cradle  to  the  coffin.  The 
shock  was  about  to  come.  The  long  guns  of  the  cinque-ports 
were  already  loaded,  and  the  matches  blazing,  to  open  upon 
the  expectant  enemy,  as  he  descended  upon  her  coasts.  We 
came  as  a  new  enemy  into  the  field.  It  was  natural  to  ex- 
pect her,  in  the  face  of  the  old  foe,  thought  by  so  many  to 
be  himself  an  over-match  for  her,  to  hasten  to  make  terms 
with  us,  rather  than  have  another  enemy  upon  her.  No  ! 
She  refused,  in  the  agony  and  stress  of  danger,  to  do  what 
she  refused  in  other  times.  She  turned  to  us  the  same  look 
of  resolute  and  imperturbable  defiance — with  some  touch  of 
friendly  reluctance  in  it,  it  may  be — which  she  had  turned  to 
her  ancient  foe.  As  she  stood  in  her  armor,  glittering  like  a 
war-god,  beneath  the  lion-banner,  under  which  we  had  fought 
with  her  at  the  Long  Meadows,  at  Fort  Du  Quesne,  and  on 
the  Heights  of  Abraham,  Randolph  could  not — for  his  soul, 
he  could  not  find  it  in  his  heart  to  strike  her  then. 

The  war  was  declared.  An  immense  excitement  reigned 
throughout  the  country.  The  session  at  length  closed,  and 
Randolph  came  back  to  his  constituents. 

He  was  to  be  opposed  at  home.  It  was  a  desirable  con- 
summation to  defeat  him  and  break  him  down.  He  was  the 
impersonation  of  the  anti-war  party.  His  defeat  would 
greatly  strengthen  the  administration,  Mr.  Eppes,  the  son- 
in-law  of  Mr.  Jefferson,  had  removed  into  his  district,  to  be- 
come a  candidate  against  him.  No  stone  was  left  unturned. 
The  most  flagitious  reports  of  British  influence  and  coercion, 
among  other  things,  were  put  out  against  him.  The  excite- 


RANDOLPH   DEFEATED.  221 

ment  against  him  grew  intense  amongst  the  people.  He  was 
threatened  with  personal  violence  in  one  of  the  counties, 
if  he  came  among  them  to  address  the  people.  Proudly 
defying  his  enemies,  he  went  through  the  canvass.  He  exert- 
ed himself  as  he  never  did  before.  For  hours  he  spoke, 
and  men  listened  to  his  burning  eloquence,  without  moving 
from  their  position.  It  was  all  unavailing.  His  old  constit- 
uents deserted  him.  He  was  defeated ;  and,  without  a  mur- 
mur, he  bowed  his  head  to  the  stroke,  and  went  into  retire- 
ment. 


CHAPTER  X. 

Randolph's  Eeligious  Sentiments  and  Conduct— Death  of  his  Nephew,  Tudor  Kan- 
dolph— Extracts  of  Randolph's  Letters. 

ABOUT  this  time  (1814)  a  strong  impression  was  made  upon 
Randolph's  mind  by  religion.  As  he  grew  up,  and  for  some 
years  afterwards,  he  was  disposed  to  be  skeptical,  even 
atheistical.  Bat,  later  in  life,  the  old  teachings  of  his  mo- 
ther came  back  to  his  memory  and  his  heart.  As  troubles 
multiplied  upon  him  ;  as,  one  by  one,  the  objects  upon  which 
he  had  placed  his  affections  were  torn  from  him ;  as,  day  by 
day,  he  experienced  the  worthlessness  of  those  things  which 
are  sought  as  the  great  ends  of  life  and  sources  of  happi- 
ness, he  grew  more  and  more  anxious  about  the  dread  future 
beyond  this  life.  This  change,  in  great  part,  was  the  fruit 
of  that  keen  observation  of  men  which  distinguished  him. 
The  only  really  happy  men  he  knew  were  Christians.  He 
was  intimate  with  Moses  Hogue,  F.  S.  Key,  and  William 
Meade,  three  men  distinguished  for  talent  and  attainments, 
but  still  more  eminent  for  piety,  usefulness,  and  tranquil 
and  happy  lives.  He  turned  his  attention  to  religious 


RANDOLPH'S  RELIGIOUS  SENTIMENTS.  223 

studies.  In  the  solitude  of  Roanoke — to  which  he  had  re- 
moved from  Bizarre  in  1 8 1 0 — he  could  give  an  almost  uninter- 
rupted devotion  to  such  studies.  He  seems  to  have  become 
firmly  persuaded  of  the  truth  of  Christianity.  His  progress  in 
this  work,  marks  a  most  interesting  portion  of  the  history  of 
this  extraordinary  man.  He  had  his  doubts  and  difficulties. 
Clouds  encompassed  him.  Many  things  were  dark  and  un- 
intelligible to  his  mind  ;  but  he  seems  to  have  sought,  in  a 
humble  and  child-like  spirit,  for  light,  where  alone  it  could 
be  found.  The  account  he  gives  of  this  change  is  so  in- 
teresting, that  we  give  it,  in  his  own  words,  to  that  noble 
friend,  Frank  Key,  whose  friendship  for  Randolph  is  itself 
a  guaranty,  that  Randolph  was  not  the  cold-blooded  mis- 
anthrope his  enemies  have  painted. 

"  For  a  long  time  the  thoughts  that  now  occupy  me  came 
and  went  out  of  my  mind.  Sometimes  they  were  banished 
by  business  ;  at  others,  by  pleasure.  But  heavy  afflictions 
fell  upon  me.  They  came  more  frequently  and  staid  longer 
— pressing  upon  me,  until,  at  last,  I  never  went  asleep,  nor 
awoke,  but  they  were  the  first  and  last  in  my  recollection. 
Oftentimes  have  they  awakened  me,  until,  at  length,  I  can- 
not, if  I  would,  detach  myself  from  them.  Mixing  in  the 
business  of  the  world  I  find  highly  injurious  to  me.  I  can- 
not repress  the  feelings  which  the  conduct  of  our  fellow-men 
too  often  excites ;  yet  I  hate  nobody,  and  I  have  endeavored 
to  forgive  all  who  have  done  me  an  injury,  as  I  have  asked 
forgiveness  of  those  whom  I  may  have  wronged  in  thought 
or  deed.  If  I  could  have  my  way,  I  would  retire  to 


224  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

some  retreat,  far  from  the  strife  of  the  world,  and  pass  the 
remnant  of  my  days  in  meditation  and  prayer ;  and  yet  this 
would  be  a  life  of  ignoble  security.  But,  my  good  friend, 
T  am  not  qualified  (as  yet,  at  least)  to  leave  the  heat  of  the 
battle.  I  seek  for  rest — for  peace.  I  have  read  much  of 
the  New  Testament  lately.  Some  of  the  texts  are  full  of 
consolation  ;  others  inspire  dread.  The  Epistle  of  Paul,  I 
cannot,  for  the  most  part,  comprehend  ;  with  the  assistance 
of  Mr.  Locke's  paraphrase,  I  hope  to  accomplish  it.  My 
good  friend,  you  will  bear  with  this  egotism  ;  for  I  seek 
from  you  instruction  on  a  subject  in  comparison  with  which 
all  others  sink  into  insignificance.  I  have  had  a  strong  de- 
sire to  go  to  the  Lord's  Supper ;  but  I  was  deterred  by  a 
sense  of  my  unworthiness  ;  and,  only  yesterday,  reading  the 
denunciation  against  those  who  received  unworthily,  I 
thought  it  would  never  be  in  my  power  to  present  myself  at 
the  altar.  I  was  present  when  Mr.  Hogue  invited  to  the 
table,  and  I  would  have  given  all  I  am  worth  to  have  been 
able  to  approach  it.  There  is  no  minister  of  our  church  in 
these  parts.  I  therefore  go  to  the  Presbyterians,  who  are  the 
most  learned  and  regular ;  but  having  been  born  in  the 
Church  of  England,  I  do  not  mean  to  renounce  it.  On  the 
contrary,  I  feel  a  comfort  in  repeating  the  Liturgy,  that  I 
would  not  be  deprived  of  for  worlds.  Is  it  not  for  the  want 
of  some  such  service  that  Socinianism  has  crept  into  the 
Eastern  Congregations  ?  How  could  any  Socinian  repeat 
the  Apostle's  creed,  or  read  the  Liturgy  ?  I  begin  to  think 
with  you,  about  those  people.  You  remember  the  opinions 


HIS    RELIGIOUS    ANXIETY.  225 

you  expressed  to  me  last  winter  concerning  them.  Among 
the  causes  of  uneasiness  which  have  laid  hold  upon  me  lately, 
is  a  strong  anxiety  for  the  welfare  of  those  whom  I  love, 
and  whom  I  see  walking  in  darkness.  But  there  is  one 
source  of  affliction,  the  last  and  deepest,  which  I  must  re- 
serve till  we  meet,  if  I  can  prevail  upon  myself  to  communi- 
cate it  even  then.  It  was  laid  open  by  one  of  those  won- 
derful coincidences,  which  men  call  chance,  but  which  mani- 
fest the  hand  of  G-od.  It  has  lacerated  my  heart,  and  taken 
from  it  its  last  hope  in  this  world.  Ought  I  not  to  bless 
God  for  the  evil  (as  it  seems  in  my  sight)  as  well  as  the 
good? 

"  Is  it  not  the  greatest  of  blessings,  if  it  be  made  the 
means  of  drawing  me  unto  him  ?  Do  I  know  what  to  ask 
at  his  hands  ?  Is  he  not  the  judge  of  what  is  good  for  me  ? 
If  it  be  his  pleasure  that  I  perish,  am  I  not  conscious  that 
the  sentence  is  just  ? 

"  Implicitly,  then,  will  I  throw  myself  upon  his  mercy  ; 
'  not  my  will,  but  thine  be  done ; '  *  Lord,  be  merciful  to  me 
a  sinner ; '  '  Help,  Lord,  or  I  perish.'  And  now,  my  friend, 
if,  after  these  glimpses  of  the  light,  I  should  shut  mine  eyes 
and  harden  my  heart,  which  now  is  as  melted  wax ;  if  I 
should  be  enticed  back  to  the  { herd,'  and  lose  all  recollec- 
tion of  my  wounds,  how  much  deeper  my  guilt  than  his, 
whose  heart  has  never  been  touched  by  the  sense  of  his  per- 
ishing, undone  condition.  This  has  rushed  upon  my  mind 
when  I  have  thought  of  partaking  of  the  Lord's  Supper. 
After  binding  myself  by  that  sacred  rite,  should  passion 
10* 


226  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

overcome  me,  should  I  be  induced  to  forget  in  some  unhappy 
hour  that  holy  obligation,  I  shudder  to  think  of  it.  There 
are  two  ways  only  in  which,  I  am  of  opinion,  that  I  may  be 
serviceable  to  mankind.  One  of  these  is  teaching  children ; 
and  I  have  some  thoughts  of  establishing  a  school.  Then, 
again,  it  comes  into  my  head  that  I  am  borne  away  by  a 
transient  enthusiasm ;  or  that  I  may  be  reduced  to  the  con- 
dition of  some  unhappy  fanatics  who  mistake  the  perversion 
of  their  intellects  for  the  conversion  of  their  hearts.  Pray 
for  me." 

In  a  subsequent  letter,  he  tells  Key :  "  In  a  critique  of 
Scott,  vol.  xii.,  upon  the  Bishop  of  Lincoln's  '  Refutation 
of  Calvinism,'  it  is  stated,  that  no  man  is  converted  to  the 
truth  of  Christianity  without  the  self-experience  of  a  mira- 
cle. Such  is  the  substance.  He  must  be  sensible  of  the  work- 
ing of  a  miracle  in  his  own  person.  Now,  my  good  friend, 
I  have  never  experienced  any  thing  like  this.  I  am  sensible, 
and  am  always,  of  the  proneness  to  sin  in  my  nature.  I  have 
grieved  unfeignedly  for  my  manifold  transgressions.  I  have 
thrown  myself  upon  the  mercy  of  my  Redeemer,  conscious  of 
my  own  utter  inability  to  conceive  one  good  thought,  or  do  one 
good  act,  without  His  gracious  aid.  But  I  have  felt  nothing 
like  what  Scott  requires."  Again  to  Dr.  Brockenbrough,  him- 
self, it  seems,  at  this  time,  disposed  to  be  somewhat  skepti- 
cal :  "  I  am  no  disciple  of  Calvin  or  Wesley,  but  I  feel  the 
necessity  of  a  changed  nature,  of  a  new  life,  of  an  altered 
heart.  I  feel  my  stubborn  and  rebellious  nature  to  be  soft- 
ened, and  that  it  is  essential  to  my  comfort  here,  as  ivell  as 


DEATH  OF  TUDOR  RANDOLPH.  227 

to  my  future  welfare,  to  cultivate  and  cherish  feelings  of 
good  will  towards  all  mankind ;  to  strive  against  envy,  ma- 
lice, and  all  uncharitableness.  I  think  I  have  succeeded  in 
forgiving  all  my  enemies.  There  is  not  a  human  being  I 
would  hurt  if  it  were  in  my  power ;  not  even  Bonaparte." 

Another  misfortune  fell  upon  him  in  the  death  of  Tudor 
Randolph,  the  son  of  his  brother  Richard,  and  the  last  of 
the  line.  Randolph  had  designated  him  as  the  heir  of  his 
fortune,  and  looked  to  him  as  the  representative  of  his 
house  and  name.  The  few  pathetic  words  of  his  letter  to 
Dr.  Brockenbrough,  who  had  announced  the  death  of  the 
young  man,  which  had  occurred  in  England,  explain  the 
effect  of  this  blow  upon  his  heart :  "  Your  kind  and  con- 
siderate letter  contained  the  first  intelligence  of  an  event 
which  I  have  long  expected,  yet  dreaded  to  hear.  I  can 
make  no  comment  upon  it.  To  attempt  to  describe  the  situ- 
ation of  my  mind  would  be  vain,  even  if  it  were  practicable. 
May  God  bless  you ;  to  Him  alone  I  look  for  comfort  on 
this  side  of  the  grave ;  there  alone,  if  at  all,  I  shall  find  it." 

The  effect  of  this  calamity  on  Randolph  is  thus  described 
by  Mr.  Garland :  "  Many  said  his  mind  was  unsettled ;  that 
this  dark  destiny  drove  reason  from  her  throne,  and  made 
him  mad.  In  the  vulgar  estimation  of  a  cold  and  selfish 
world,  he  was  surely  mad ;  the  cries  of  a  deep  and  earnest 
soul  are  a  mockery  to  the  vain  and  unfeeling  multitude. 
David  had  many  sons ;  Randolph  had  this  only  hope,  the 
child  of  his  affections.  Yet  when  Absalom  was  slain,  '  the 
king  was  much  moved,  and  went  up  to  the  chamber  over  the 


228  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

gate  and  wept ;  and  as  he  wept,  thus  he  said, l  0  my  som 
Absalom — my  son,  my  son  Absalom  !  would  God  I  had  died 
for  thee.  0  Absalom,  my  son,  my  son  !  ' : 

As  might  have  been  expected,  this  new  religious  influ- 
ence became,  for  a  while,  the  controlling  principle  in  Ran- 
dolph's mind.  He  was  so  organized  that,  when  he  was  inter- 
ested in  any  subject,  he  concentrated  his  thoughts  and  feelings 
upon  it,  until  he  became  nearly  rnonomaniacal.  Hence  the 
extreme  vividness  of  his  ideas.  For  a  long  while,  the  hours 
of  his  solitude — for  he  was  the  most  unsocial  of  men — were 
given  up  to  thoughts  and  speculations  upon  the  exceeding 
mysteries  of  religion  ;  mysteries  which  have  baffled  the  most 
gifted  intellects,  which  are  too  deep  for  human  ken  to  pene- 
trate, and  most  dangerous  to  the  stability  of  the  best-bal- 
anced mind  to  dwell  long  upon.  The  inquisitiveness  of  his 
mind  was  such,  that  he  could  not  restrain  it  from  such  daring 
speculations.  The  affairs  of  the  world  became  tame  and  in- 
sipid. He  came  reluctantly  to  the  consideration  of  the  most 
exciting  secular  interests.  He  had  been  elected  to  Congress 
again,  by  his  old,  and,  ever-after,  faithful  constituents,  who 
sorely  regretted  their  desertion  of  him  before  ;  and  the 
election,  was  contested,  yet  he  took  but  little  interest  in  the 
contest.  Even  public  life  had  lost  its  zest.  He  afterwards 
declared  that  Washington  City  was  as  lonely  a  solitude  to  him 
as  the  shades  of  Roanoke.  The  one  great  subject  was  still 
uppermost  in  his  mind.  But  no  peace  followed.  The 
miracle  he  spoke  of  had  not  yet  been  wrought.  The  light 
was  still  absent  from  his  soul.  He  returned  to  Roanoke 


HIS    CONVERSION.  229 

afterwards  (in  1818),  and,  suddenly,  the  light  shines 
upon  him.  His  eyes  are  opened  !  He  hears  the  voice  Paul 
heard  !  He  now  sees  the  rainbow  painted  on  the  lately 
frowning  sky.  After  freaks  of  eccentricity  ;  after  bursts  of 
petulance  and  unkindness  towards  those  about  him,  which 
seem  inconsistent  with  a  rational  mind,  he  writes  these  lines 
to  Key.  Was  it  madness  or  the  miracle  that  prompted 
them  ?  Let  the  reader  judge  : 

"  Roanoke,  Sep.  7,  1818. 

"  Congratulate  me,  dear  Frank — wish  me  joy  you  need  not : 
give  it  you  cannot.  I  am  at  last  reconciled  to  my  God,  and 
have  assurance  of  his  pardon,  through  faith  in  Christ, 
against  which  the  very  gates  of  hell  cannot  prevail.  Fear  hath 
been  driven  out  by  perfect  love.  I  now  know  that  you  know 
how  I  feel ;  and  within  a  month  for  the  first  time,  I  under- 
stand your  feelings,  and  those  of  every  real  Christian." 

The  following  note  by  him  is  so  full  of  sense  and  so 
characteristic,  that  we  insert  it  entire. 

"  It  is  my  business  to  avoid  giving  offence  to  the  world, 
especially  in  all  matters  merely  indifferent.  I  shall,  there- 
fore, stick  to  my  old  uniform,  blue  and  buff,  unless  God 
sees  fit  to  change  it  for  black.  I  must  be  as  attentive  to 
my  dress,  and  to  household  affairs,  as  far  as  cleanliness  and 
comfort  are  concerned,  as  ever,  and,  indeed,  more  so.  Let 
us  take  care  to  drive  none  away  from  God,  by  dressing 
religion  in  the  garb  of  fanaticism.  Let  us  exhibit  her  as  she 


230  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

is,  equally  removed  from  superstition  and  lukewarmness, 
But  we  must  take  care,  that  while  we  avoid  one  extreme,  we 
fall  not  into  the  other ;  no  matter  which.  I  was  born  and 
baptized  in  the  Church  of  England.  If  I  attend  the  con- 
vention at  Charlottesville,  which  I  rather  doubt,  I  shall 
oppose  myself  then  and  always  to  every  attempt  at  encroach- 
ment on  the  part  of  the  church,  the  clergy  especially,  on  the 
right  of  conscience.  I  attribute,  in  a  very  great  degree,  my 
long  estrangement  from  God,  to  my  abhorrence  of  prelatical 
pride  and  puritanical  preciseness ;  to  ecclesiastical  tyranny, 
whether  Roman  Catholic  or  Protestant ;  whether  of  Henry  V. 
or  Henry  VIII.  ;  of  Mary  or  Elizabeth ;  of  John  Knox  or 
Archbishop  Laud ;  of  the  Cameronians  of  Scotland,  the 
Jacobins  of  France,  or  the  Protestants  of  Ireland.  Should 
I  fail  to  attend,  it  will  arise  from  a  repugnance  to  submit  the 
religion,  or  church,  any  more  than  the  liberty  of  my  country, 
to  foreign  influence.  When  I  speak  of  my  country,  I  mean 
the  Commonwealth  of  Virginia.  I  was  born  in  allegiance 
to  George  III. ;  the  Bishop  of  London  (Terrick!)  was  my 
diocesan.  My  ancestors  threw  off  the  oppressive  yoke  of  the 
mother  country,  but  they  never  made  me  subject  to  New 
England  in  matters  spiritual  or  temporal ;  neither  do  I  mean 
to  become  so,  voluntarily." 

His  deep  respect  for  religion,  and  its  influence  upon  his 
life  were  never  lost ;  but,  plunging  into  the  excitements  of 
political  life,  the  strong  impressions  and  the  resolves,  sincere 
when  made,  as  is  too  frequently  the  case,  in  a  great  measure 
lost  or  intermitted  their  power. 


CHAPTER  XL 

Randolph  for  Vigorous  Prosecution  of  the  War — His  Letter  to  the  New  England 
States— Re-elected  to  Congress— Opposes  the  U.  S.  Bank  and  the  Tariff—  His  Ill- 
ness and  Despondency— Monroe's  Administration— Randolph  Opposes  it— The 
Missouri  Question— His  Letters  to  Dr.  Dudley— His  Will— Denounces  the  Slavery 
Agitation— Opposes  the  Bankrupt  and  Apportionment  Bills— Visits  Europe— Hia 
Impressions  of  England — Opposes  the  Greek  and  South  American  Resolutions — 
Opposes  Internal  Improvements— Opinion  of  Chief  Justice  Marshall— Opposes  the 
Tariff  of  1824— Visits  England  and  France. 

WE  must  go  back  to  trace  Randolph's  political  course.  The 
war  declared,  and  himself  in  retirement,  he  was,  of  course, 
unconnected  with  the  public  measures  of  the  interesting 
session  of  1813-14.  But,  though  opposed  to  the  declara- 
tion of  war,  he  was  for  its  most  effective  prosecution.  He 
had  no  sympathy  with,  and  gave  no  support  to,  the  enemy. 
There  was,  to  say  the  least,  great  discontent  in  Massa- 
chusetts. The  minority  of  the  Legislature  charged  the 
majority  with  designing  a  separate  treaty  with  England, 
providing  for  the  neutrality  of  the  New  England  States 
during  the  war.  Randolph,  having  been  assured  that  his 
voice  would  find  a  favorable  hearing  in  New  England,  pub- 


232  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

lished  a  letter  to  dissuade  the  people  from  so  unpatriotic  a 
course.  This  letter  is,  in  all  respects,  equal  to  the  best 
of  Junius ;  with  not  less  of  point  and  directness,  and  even 
more  of  grace  and  eloquence  than  characterizes  the  writings 
of  that  master  of  satire.  He  thus  speaks  of  Adams  and 
Madison :  "  The  name  of  this  man  (John  Adams)  calls  up 
contempt  and  derision  wheresoever  it  is  pronounced.  To 
the  fantastic  vanity  of  this  political  Malvolio,  may  be  dis- 
tinctly traced  our  present  unhappy  condition.  I  will  not 
be  so  ungenerous  as  to  remind  you  that  this  personage  (of 
whom,  and  his  addresses,  and  his  answers,  I  defy  you  to 
think  without  a  bitter  smile)  was  not  a  Virginian ;  but  I 
must,  in  justice  to  ourselves,  insist  on  making  him  a  set-off 
to  Madison.  They  are  of  such  equal  weight,  that  the 
trembling  balance  reminds  us  of  that  passage  of  Pope, 
where  Jove  weighs  the  beau's  wits  against  the  lady's  hair  : 

"  l  The  doubtful  beam  long  nods  from  side  to  side, 
At  length  the  wits  mount  up,  the  hairs  subside.'  " 

The  language  contains  few  papers  more  eloquent  with 
patriotism,  or  invective  against  England,  or  in  defence  of 
the  South,  especially  of  Virginia,  than  this  remarkable 
letter. 

On  a  threatened  attack  of  the  British  upon  Virginia, 
Randolph,  took  the  field,  but  the  enemy  did  not  then  appear. 

No  man  saw  more  clearly  the  effect  of  a  foreign  war  upon 
state-rights,  than  Randolph.  He  said  that  the  country 
would  come  out  of  the  war  without  a  constitution.  Ac- 


"  PAY    AS    YOU   GO."  233 

cording  to  the  creed  of  his  school,  he  was  not  far  from  the 
mark. 

The  war  over,  the  project  of  a  National  Bank,  opposed 
by  Clay  and  Madison  in  1811,  and  now  advocated  as  ne- 
cessary— the  necessity  being  a  result  of  the  war — came 
up  in  Congress.  The  war  party,  headed  by  Clay,  Calhoun, 
Lowndes,  and  others  in  the  House,  and  by  Madison  in  the 
Executive  department,  now  sustained  the  measure.  Ran- 
dolph opposed  the  bill  in  all  its  stages.  He  seems  to  have 
been  hostile  to  all  new-fangled  modes  of  getting  along  in  the 
world  without  labor ;  and,  as  such,  he  considered  banking 
and  speculation.  He  cherished,  with  as  much  pertinacity 
as  Franklin,  the  old-fashioned  virtues  of  economy,  industry, 
and  personal  independence.  Debt  he  considered  a  great 
evil  and  disgrace,  and  a  bankrupt  as  a  great  criminal.  "  Mr. 
President,"  said  he,  one  day  in  the  Senate,  in  the  midst  of 
one  of  his  most  brilliant  harangues,  "  I  have  found  the 
philosopher's  stone — PAY  AS  YOU  GO."  He  condemned  ex- 
travagance, paper-money,  and  trading  on  credit  as  a  sort  of 
Jeremy-Didlerism,  which  government  should  discountenance. 
He  thought  the'evils  of  the  times  originated  in  looseness  of 
morals,  and  inveighed  with  great  power  against  the  corrupt- 
ing influence,  and  the  despotic  power  of  the  banks.  It  was 
in  opposition  to  this  bill,  that  he  said,  "  If  I  must  have  a 
master,  let  him  be  one  with  epaulettes — something  that  I 
can  fear  and  respect — something  that  I  can  look  up  to  ;  but 
not  a  master  with  a  quill  behind  his  ear." 

He  denounced  the  connection  between  the  Bank  and  the 


234  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

government  as  "a  monstrous  alliance."  This  was  long  in 
advance  of  "  the  divorce  between  Bank  and  State,"  which 
was  a  party  motto  in  our  day. 

This  certainly  is  very  plain  talk  :  "  Let  us  not  disguise 
the  fact,  sir  (said  Randolph,  in  the  House)  we  think  we 
are  living  in  the  better  times  of  the  Republic.  We  deceive 
ourselves  :  we  are  almost  in  the  days  of  Sylla  and  Marius  : 
yes,  we  have  almost  got  down  to  the  time  of  Jugurtha.  It 
is  unpleasant  to  put  oneself  in  array  against  a  great  leading 
interest  in  a  community,  be  they  a  knot  of  land  speculators, 
paper  jobbers,  or  what  not :  but,  sir,  every  man  you  meet, 
in  this  House  or  out  of  it,  with  some  rare  exceptions,  which 
only  serve  to  prove  the  rule,  is  either  a  stock-holder,  presi- 
dent, cashier,  clerk,  or  door  keeper,  runner,  engraver,  paper- 
maker  or  mechanic,  in  some  way  or  other,  to  a  bank.  The 
gentleman  from  Pennsylvania  may  dismiss  his  fears  for 
the  banks,  with  their  one  hundred  and  seventy  millions  of 
paper  on  eighty  two  millions  of  capital.  However  great  the 
evil  may  be,  who  is  to  bell  the  cat  ?  who  is  to  take  the  bull 
by  the  horns  ?  You  might  as  well  attack  Gibraltar  with  a 
pocket-pistol,  as  to  attempt  to  punish  them.  *  *  *  A 
man  might  as  well  go  to  Constantinople  to  preftch  Chris- 
tianity as  to  get  up  here  and  preach  against  the  banks." 

Equally  decided  was  Randolph's  hostility  to  the  Tariff 
bill  of  this  session,  which  though  ostensibly,  a  revenue  mea 
sure,  yet    contained  the  seed-principle  of  protection,   that 
ultimately   germinated   into    the    policy,    which    scattered 
abroad  over  the  land  so  much  of  excitement  and  discord. 


HIS    ILLNESS    AND     UNHAPPINESS.  235 

Randolph's  health,  at  this  time,  was  wretched.  It  never 
was  good.  He  used  to  say  he  had  "been  sick  all  his  life.  At 
his  best  state,  he  never  had  more  than  partial  exemption  from 
pain  and  feebleness.  Now,  he  was  in  a  very  low  condition. 
He  had  many  violent  attacks  of  acute  disease,  bringing  him 
— some  of  them — to  the  very  verge  of  the  grave.  Several  of 
these  spells  were  long  protracted.  The  vital  organs  were 
affected ;  and  he  had  no  doubt,  and  no  room  to  doubt,  that 
he  carried  within  him  a  fatal  disease.  His  disease  affected 
his  mind  and  spirits,  and  colored  all  objects  on  which  he 
looked.  He  became  a  confirmed  hypochondriac.  His  cor- 
respondence breathes  the  dreariest  despondency.  Every 
letter  is  but  a  dismal  picture  of  the  acutest  mental  suffering 
and  depression.  Doubtless,  the  solitude  to  which  he  con- 
demned himself,  contributed  greatly  to  this  state  of  mind. 
He  writes :  "  My  case  appears  to  me  to  be  peculiarly  miserable ; 
to  me  the  world  is  a  vast  desert,  and  there  is  no  merit  in  re- 
nouncing it,  since  there  is  no  difficulty.  There  never  was 
a  time  when  it  was  so  utterly  destitute  of  allurement  for  me. 
The  difficulty  with  me  is,  to  find  some  motive  to  action, 
something  to  break  the  sluggish  tenor  of  my  life.  I  look 
back  upon  the  havoc  of  the  past  year,  as  upon  a  bloody  field 
of  battle,  where  my  friends  have  perished." 

And  again  to  Key :  "  For  my  part,  if  there  breathes  a 
creature  more  empty  of  enjoyment  than  myself,  I  sincerely 
pity  him.  My  opinions  seem  daily  to  become  more  unsettled, 
and  the  awful  mystery  which  shrouds  the  future  alone  ren- 
ders the  present  tolerable.  The  darkness  of  my  hours,  so 


236  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

far  from  having  passed  away,  has  thickened  into  the  deepest 
gloom.  I  try  not  to  think,  by  moulding  my  mind  upon  the 
thoughts  of  others  ;  but  to  little  purpose.'1 

Under  the  influence  of  such  feelings,  no  wonder  that  he 
did  many  things, — what  hypochondriac  does  not? — which  were 
attributed  to  mental  aberration.  But  he  was  far  from  mad. 
Indeed,  whenever  he  lost  the  idea  of  himself  and  his  suffer- 
ings, and  grew  interested  in  any  subject,  his  mind  gave  out 
the  sagacity  and  brilliancy  that  had  distinguished  it  of  old. 

We  come  to  the  "  era  of  good  feeling" — the  administra- 
tion of  Monroe.  Amnesty  had  been  declared  for  all  past 
political  offences,  or,  rather,  a  complete  fusion  of  parties,  had 
been  accomplished.  Federalism,  heretofore  maintaining, 
here  and  there,  a  solitary  post  on  the  lines,  or  a  local  ascend- 
ency in  some  of  its  strongholds,  had  surrendered,  on  terms 
of  honor ;  and  the  old  strifes  of  party  were  banished  from 
the  public  councils.  The  lion  had  laid  down  with  the  lamb, 
and  a  short  political  millennium  had  set  in.  Beside  the 
stalwart  old  cockade  Federalist  sat  the  French  disciple  of 
the  secret  societies.  There  seeemed  to  be  peace,  if  not 
friendship,  between  the  old  combatants.  Though  Randolph, 
at  one  time,  was  the  partisan  of  Monroe,  or,  rather,  preferred 
him  to  Madison,  he  seems  afterwards  to  have  held  him  in  as 
great,  if  not  greater,  disesteem  than  his  rival. 

The  young  war-champions  were  still  leaders  over  the  in- 
congruous mass ;  and,  riding  on  a  full  tide  of  popularity, 
seemingly  secure  of  being,  at  no  distant  day,  wafted  into  tho 
first  places  of  power. 


THE   MISSOURI    QUESTION.  237 

The  agitation  of  the  Missouri  question  brought  on  a 
fierce  excitement.  It  was  during  the  pendency  of  this  mea- 
sure, that  a  collision  occurred,  which  affected  inharmoniously 
the  personal  relations  of  Randolph  and  Clay.  Randolph 
took  occasion  to  show  the  backslidings  of  the  Republicans, 
and  the  departure  of  the  government  from  its  early  republi- 
can tack ;  and  inveighed  particularly  against  the  inconsist- 
ency of  Clay's  course  on  the  Bank,  the  Internal  Improve- 
ment, and  the  Tariff  questions.  He  complained  that  he 
could  not  command  the  attention  of  the  speaker  (Clay)  ;  and 
stopped,  in  the  course  of  his  speech,  "  in  mid  volley,"  to  re- 
buke him  for  this  direliction.  Clay,  however,  denied  the 
impeachment,  and  professed  that  he  was  paying  all  possible 
attention.  Randolph  complained  to  his  friends  that  Clay's 
manner  towards  him  was  usually  petulant  or  arrogant — 
sometimes  both 

He  spoke  of  Clay's  conduct  in  the  chair,  as  a  dictator- 
ship. Probably,  it  was  a  little  too  much  to  expect  of  a  speak- 
er to  listen,  with  the  most  exemplary  patience,  to  such  a 
tirade  as  Randolph  could  pour  out  for  "  four  hours,"  in  ex- 
position of  the  Chairman's  inconsistencies. 

Randolph  opposed  the  Missouri  restriction  with  all  his 
might  as  impolitic  and  unconstitutional,  and  he  combated  the 
famous  compromise,  with  equal  vigor.  In  reference  to  the 
rejection  of  the  votes  of  Missouri,  in  the  Presidential  elec- 
tion, which  involved  the  question  of  her  admission  into  the 
Union,  and  the  power  to  exclude  her,  because  her  constitu- 
tion excluded  free  blacks  from  the  State,  Randolph  said : 


238  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

"  This  is  no  skirmish,  as  the  gentleman  from  Virginia  has 
said  ;  this  is  the  battle  where  Greek  meets  Greek.  Let  us 
buckle  on  our  armor ;  let  us  put  aside  all  this  flummery, 
these  metaphysical  distinctions,  these  unprofitable  drawings 
of  distinctions  without  differences.  Let  us  say  now,  as  we 
have,  on  another  occasion  (the  election  of  Jefferson  and 
Burr  in  1801),  we  will  assert,  maintain  and  vindicate  our 
rights,  or  put  to  hazard  what  you  pretend  to  hold  in  such 
high  estimation." 

The  great  excitement  wrought  upon  him  by  the  Missouri 
question,  and  by  the  death  of  Decatur,  to  whom  Randolph  was 
warmly  attached,  somewhat  unsettled  his  intellect,  and  caus- 
ed him  to  commit  some  extravagant  freaks,  which  drew  upon 
him  the  charge  of  madness.  His  mind,  however,  recovered 
its  usual  tone,  shortly  after  his  return  to  Roanoke. 

The  advice  he  gave  young  Dudley,  in  a  letter  written 
about  this  time,  certainly  betrays  no  touch  of  insanity.  It 
is  difficult  to  find  any  thing  in  all  literature  more  truly  sa- 
gacious, or  "  common-sensical," — to  use  a  word  of  his  own 
coinage — than  Randolph's  fine  letters  to  his  young  friend. 

In  December,  1821,  when  just  leaving  home  for  Wash- 
ington, booted  and  spurred  for  his  journey,  and  his  horses  and 
servants  waiting  at  the  door,  he  sat  down  and  wrote  the  will, 
which  was  finally  established,  after  so  long  a  contest  in  the 
courts.  By  this  will,  he  manumitted  his  slaves — three  hun- 
dred in  number — and  provided  a  fund  for  the  purchase  of  a 
tract  of  land  for  them ;  a  disposition,  which,  as  it  turned  out, 
evinced  more  of  benevolence  than  sagacity.  But  never  did 


DENOUNCES    THE    SLAVERY   AGITATION.  239 

he  speak  more  wisely,  or  see  more  clearly  into  the  effect  of 
any  movement,  than  when,  as  early  as  1821,  he  reprobated 
the  effect  of  the  agitation  of  slavery  by  the  Abolitionists, 
upon  the  interests  of  the  slave  :  "I  am  persuaded"  (he 
said)  "  that  the  cause  of  humanity  to  these  unfortunates  has 
been  put  back  a  century — certainly  a  generation — by  the 
unprincipled  conduct  of  ambitious  men,  availing  themselves 
of  a  good,  as  well  as  of  a  fanatical  spirit,  in  the  nation." 

"We  must  pass  rapidly  over  other  measures  in  which  Ran- 
dolph vindicated  his  consistency  to  his  early  creed,  especially 
his  opposition  to  the  bankrupt  law,  and  to  the  apportionment 
bill.  The  last  bill  proposed  an  increase  of  the  ratio  of  re- 
presentation in  Congress.  It  reduced  Virginia  from  a  first 
position.  It  marked  the  first  step  in  the  melancholy  decline 
she  has  since  experienced,  from  her  ancient  estate.  He  op- 
posed it,  too,  because  he  believed  a  numerous  representation 
afforded  the  best  security  for  good  government. 

On  the  passage  of  the  bankrupt  bill,  he  went  to  Europe. 
He  visited  England.  As  he  approached  the  shore,  the  sight 
of  Old  England  brought  back  "  the  olden  time "  to  his 
memory,  and  he  shed  tears  of  delight.  "  Thank  God,"  ex- 
claimed he,  "  that  I  have  lived  to  behold  the  land  of  Shake- 
speare, of  Milton,  and  of  my  forefathers.  May  her  great- 
ness increase  through  all  time  !  " 

The  tour  promised  to  be  highly  interesting  and  beneficial 
to  the  gifted  traveller.  He  started  with  a  better  knowledge 
of  the  localities  and  persons  of  note  in  England,  than  most 
visitors,  and,  indeed,  than  most  intelligent  natives  possess. 


240  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

He  was  received  and  treated  with  great  attention  and  kind- 
ness, and  left  an  excellent  impression  upon  those  with  whom 
he  came  in  contact.  The  refined  and  cultivated  society  of 
England  was  greatly  to  his  taste ;  and  he  returned  home 
with  a  large  store  of  valuable  knowledge,  and  many  pleasant 
memories. 

He  returned  in  time  to  take  his  seat  in  the  eighteenth 
Congress.  The  Greek  and  South  American  resolutions  were 
taken  up.  The  first  expressed  sympathy  for  Greece  in  her 
struggles  with  the  Turk ;  and  the  other  resolved,  that  we 
could  not  see,  without  inquietude,  any  forcible  interposition 
of  the  allied  powers  of  Europe,  on  behalf  of  Spain,  to  re- 
duce the  Spanish  colonies,  whose  independence  we  had  re- 
cognized, to  subjection.  These  were  very  captivating  themes. 
They  were  redolent  of  eloquence.  In  the  hands  of  "Webster, 
Poinsett  and  Clay,  they  were  made  the  topics  of  a  brilliant 
and  glowing  declamation.  Randolph  opposed  these  resolu- 
tions. He  turned  from  the  poetic  side  of  the  question,  to 
its  more  prosaic  aspect.  He  was  the  advocate  "  of  a  fireside 
policy" — of  the  principle  of  letting  foreign  nations  alone,  and 
not  mixing  ourselves  up  with  them ;  waging  no  wild  crusade 
for  liberty.  u  Let  us,"  said  he,  "  adhere  to  the  policy  laid 
down  by  the  second,  as  well  as  the  first,  founder  of  our 
Republic — by  him  who  was  the  Camillus,  as  well  as  Romulus 
of  the  infant  State — to  the  policy  of  peace,  commerce,  and 
honest  friendship  with  all  nations,  entangling  alliances  with 
none — for  to  entangling  alliances  you  must  come,  if  you 
once  embark  in  policy  such  as  this."  He  concluded  : — "  For 


RANDOLPH'S  OPINION  OF  MARSHALL.  241 

myself,  I  would  sooner  put  the  shirt  of  Nessus  on  my  back 
than  sanction  these  doctrines — doctrines  such  as  I  never 
heard  from  my  boyhood  till  now.  They  go  the  whole  length. 
If  they  prevail,  there  are  no  longer  any  Pyrennees ;  every 
bulwark  and  barrier  of  the  Constitution  is  broken  down." 

The  resolutions  were  killed  off. 

Next  came  the  question  of  Internal  Improvement.  Ran- 
dolph opposed  this  measure,  as  he  had  opposed  all  the 
others,  witl^  all  his  eloquence  and  vigor  of  argument.  The 
bill  passed,  however,  by  a  large  majority. 

Opposed  to  Marshall,  as  he  was,  and  had  ever  been,  and 
especially  to  some  of  the  doctrines  laid  down  by  the  Chief 
Justice  in  the  cases  of  Gibbons  and  Ogden,  and  Cohen  and 
Virginia,  which  were  decided  about  this  time,  Randolph 
spoke  of  him  in  a  very  different  tone  and  spirit  from  those 
of  Jefferson.  He  said,  "  No  one  admires  more  than  I  do 
the  extraordinary  powers  of  Marshall's  mind ;  no  one  re- 
spects more  his  amiable  deportment  in  private  life.  He  is 
the  most  unpretending  and  unassuming  of  men.  His  abili- 
ties and  his  virtues  render  him  an  ornament,  not  only  to 
Virginia,  but  to  our  nature.  I  cannot,  however,  help  think- 
ing, that  he  was  too  long  at  the  bar  before  he  ascended  the 
bench;  and  that,  like  our  friend  P.,  he  had  injured,  by  the 
indiscriminate  defence  of  right  or  wrong,  the  tone  of  his  per- 
ception (if  you  will  allow  so  quaint  a  phrase)  of  truth  or 
falsehood." 

The  tariff  bill  of  1824,  came  up,  and,  it  is  needless  to 


11 


242  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

say,  that  Randolph  exhausted  all  of  his  ability  in  op- 
position. 

He  sought  relief  from  sickness  and  from  the  cares  of 
public  life,  by  another  trip  to  England. 

The  second  impression  made  by  England  upon  him  seems 
to  have  been  quite  as  strong  as  the  first.  He  said  :  "  There 
never  was  such  a  country  on  the  face  of  the  earth  as  Eng- 
land; and  it  is  utterly  impossible  that  there  ever  can  be 
any  combination  of  circumstances  again  to  make  such  a 
country  hereafter  as  Old  England  is.  God  bless  her  !  " 

He  crossed  over  to  France,  but  he  seems  not  to  have 
been  greatly  pleased  with  the  French  metropolis  or  people. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Presidential  Election  of  1824— Election  of  Adams  by  tho  House— Eandolph.  op- 
poses the  Administration— Elected  to  U.  S.  Senate— Proceedings  in  the  Senate  in 
relation  to  the  Panama  Mission — President's  Message  in  reply — Eandolph 's  Speech 
on  the  Message— His  Expression  "The  Puritan  and  the  Blackleg  "—Duel  with 
Clay— Third  visit  to  Europe— Defeated  for  the  Senate  by  Tyler— Elected  to  the 
House— Opposes  the  Administration  throughout— Advocates  Jackson's  Election— 
Eetires  from  Congress— Elected  to  the  Virginia  Convention  to  amend  the 
State  Constitution — Opposes  all  Innovations — Mission  to  Eussia — Eeturns  Home 
—Nullification— The  Proclamation  and  Force  Bill— Eandolph  denounces  Jack- 
son— Sustains  South  Carolina. 

THE  presidential  election  of  1 824  resulted  in  the  return  of 
Crawford,  Jackson,  and  Adams  to  the  House — no  choice 
having  been  made  by  the  people.  Randolph  seemed  to  have 
been  almost  indifferent  to  the  result ;  if  he  had  any  prefer- 
ence, it  was  the  barest  possible  inclination  towards  Crawford. 
But. when  Adams  was  elected,  through  the  great  influence 
of  Clay,  then  the  most  influential  man  in  Congress,  Ran- 
dolph immediately  took  up  arms  against  his  administration. 
Doubtless,  personal  feeling  had  a  good  deal  to  do  with  this 
early  opposition.  Randolph  regarded  old  John  Adams  with 


244  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

a  cordial  and  unconquerable  aversion.  He  visited  upon 
the  son  this  hatred.  But  the  younger  Adams  had  aggravat- 
ed this  sentiment  by  ratting  over  and  carrying  information 
— not  too  authentic,  it  was  said — to  Jefferson,  of  treason- 
able designs,  on  the  part  of  certain  Federalists  of  New 
England;  and  this  communication  had  been  used  to  the 
disparagement  of  the  anti-war  party,  of  which  Randolph  was 
the  leader. 

Randolph's  dislike  was  mixed  with  contempt.  He 
thought  Adams  not  only  a  bad  man,  but  a  mean  man ;  and 
very  freely  gave  expression  to  this  sentiment.  Clay  he  dis- 
liked. They  were  old  enemies.  Clay  had  been  all  power- 
ful. He  had  carried  every  thing  before  him.  He  had  pre- 
vailed over  Randolph  in  almost  every  important  measure  on 
which  they  had  divided.  He  had  more  general  popularity 
than  any  man  in  the  Republic ;  though  running,  as  he  did, 
against  men  popular  in  particular  sections,  he  did  not  receive 
as  many  votes  as  any  of  the  three  opposing  him ;  yet  he  was 
the  second  choice  of  nearly  all.  Had  Clay  been  returned  to 
the  House  (and  he  came  very  near  it),  the  probability  is, 
that  he  would  have  been  elected  President. 

Clay  had  committed  the  astounding  blunder  of  taking 
office  under  the  administration  he  had  brought  into  power. 
That  was  enough  to  effect  his  ruin.  Randolph  had  an  op- 
portunity to  pay  him  off  all  old  scores.  Success  had  spoiled 
Clay's  tactics.  He  had  been  the  most  successful  man  of  his 
time ;  for  he  attempted  more  than  any  other  j  and  succeeded 
in  nearly  every  thing  he  attempted.  His  intrepid  and  enter- 


RANDOLPH  ELECTED  TO  U.  S.  SENATE.        245 

prising  spirit  had  carried  him  successfully  over  all  opposition. 
He  did  not  look  about  him,  nor  pause  to  weigh  the  conse- 
quences of  his  movements.  He  accepted  the  premiership. 
Suddenly  a  clamor  was  raised  about  his  ears,  which  opened 
his  eyes  to  the  consequences  of  his  position.  The  demon- 
strations of  popular  disapproval  were  too  patent  and  unmis- 
takable, not  to  awaken  even  his  sanguine  spirit  to  a  conscious- 
ness of  the  fatal  error  he  had  committed.  He  saw  it  too 
late.  He  had  tasted  the  forbidden  fruit,  and  the  gates  of 
the  political  paradise  were  closed  on  him  for  ever. 

Randolph  had  been  elected  to  the  Senate  of  the  United 
States  shortly  after  the  opening  of  Congress.  The  President 
communicated  a  message  to  the  Senate,  on  the  subject  of  the 
Panama  Mission.  A  motion  was  made  in  the  Senate  for  a 
call  upon  the  President  for  further  information.  Some 
further  documents  were  sent  in.  Mr.  Van  Buren  offered  a  re- 
solution, that  the  discussion  in  relation  to  the  Panama 
Congress,  should  be  with  open  doors ;  and  inquiring  of  the 
President  whether  there  was  any  objection  to  the  publi- 
cation of  the  documents  he  had  transmitted. 

Randolph,  -taking  the  conservative  side,  as  he  usually 
did,  opposed  these  resolutions ;  but  they  were  passed. 

The  President  answered  the  next  day,  leaving  the  ques- 
tion of  publication  to  the  Senate,  and  foolishly  insinuating, 
pretty  distinctly,  that  the  motives  of  the  Senate,  for  this  de- 
parture from  usage,  were  no  better  than  they  should  have 
been. 

Randolph  took  fire  at  this  message,  and  let  off  a  speech 


246  JOHN     RANDOLPH. 

of  great  bitterness  and  intemperance.  He  concluded  his 
speech  with  this  sentence  :  "  I  was  defeated,  horse,  foot  and 
dragoons — cut  up,  clean  broke  down  by  the  coalition  of 
Blifil  and  Black  George — by  the  combination,  unheard  of  till 
then,  of  the  Puritan  with  the  blackleg." 

It  is  difficult  to  say  whether  the  wit  of  this  diabolical 
antithesis,  or  the  charge  it  conveyed  and  endorsed,  was  more 
mischievous  to  the  illustrious  victim.  The  feather  was 
nearly  as  hurtful  as  the  shaft.  Certain  it  is,  that,  like  the 
arrow  of  Cullum  Moore,  this  sarcasm  passed  through  the 
mark.  It  was  the  very  thing  that  was  wanted  by  the  oppo- 
sition. It  gave  voice  to  a  general  suspicion.  It  authenti- 
cated a  vague  and  irresponsible  charge,  and  moulded  the 
charge  into  the  shape  of  current  coin,  stamped  for  universal 
circulation.  Clay  was  already  smarting  under  the  charge. 
He  was  as  proud  as  Randolph,  of  as  pure  and  unsoiled  honor 
as  any  man  that  ever  breathed,  and  entirely  conscious  of  his 
innocence.  He  eagerly  resented  this  cruel  attack ;  the  more, 
because  it  came  from  an  old  enemy,  who  ought  to  have  had 
more  magnanimity  than  to  have  made  it  upon  him,  when 
he  could  not  reply.  He  called  Randolph  to  the  field.  Ran- 
dolph answered  the  challenge. 

The  meeting  of  these  remarkable  men  is  suggestive. 
There  stood  on  the  banks  of  the  Potomac,  on  that  bright 
April  evening,  as  the  sun  was  declining  behind  the  blue  hills 
of  Virginia,  in  the  attitude  of  combatants,  two  men,  around 
whom  gathered,  probably,  a  more  stirring  interest  than 
around  any  other  two  men  in  the  Union;  and  yet  their 


DUEL  BETWEEN  RANDOLPH  AND  CLAY.        247 

political   opinions   and  their  personal  history  were  as  op- 
posite as   their   persons,  when   they  stood  in  their  places. 
They  were  alike  only  in  chivalry  of  bearing,  integrity  and 
independence  of  character,  genius  and  pride.     They  had  to 
all  appearance  met  now  to  fight  to  the  death  with  physical 
weapons,  as  they  had  met  so  often  before,  to  do  battle  with 
the  weapons  of  intellectual  warfare.     Their  opposition  had 
been  unceasing.     Probably,  they  had  never  agreed  in  one 
prominent  public  measure,  since   they  were  in  public  life  to- 
gether.    Each  looked  upon  the  other  as,  if  not  the  ablest,  at 
least  as  the  most  annoying  and  dreaded  opponent  of  his 
political  principles  and  personal  aims.     They  were,  in  early 
life,  and  to  some  extent,  still,  representatives  of  different 
phases  of  society.      RANDOLPH,  born  to  affluence  ;  descend- 
ed from  a  long  and  honored   line ;  commanding  all   that 
wealth  and  famity  influence  can  give ;  with  the  best  oppor- 
tunities for  education ;  accustomed,  almost  from  infancy,  to 
refined  and  intellectual   society ;  the  representative  of  the 
free-holders,  and  inhaling,  with  the  atmosphere  around  him, 
the   spirit   of  caste,  which,  in   his   circle,    curiously  inter- 
mingled itself^as  in  the   English  barons,  with  a   love    of 
freedom ;  aristocratic   in  many  of  his  principles,  and  still 
more  aristocratic  in  many  of  his  practices  ;  and   CLAY,  born 
in  obscurity,    of  humble   parentage — the   first   man   of  his 
family   known   out   of   his   county — "  the   mill-boy   of  the 
Slashes" — without  early  opportunities  or  powerful  friends ; 
rising,  at  last,  i^    e  a  deputy-clerk,  and  rejoicing  in  the  rise  ; 
reading,  in  the  spare  hours  released  from  manual  toil,  the 


248  JOHN     RANDOLPH. 

rudiments  of  the  law ;  going  out  into  the  backwoods  of 
Kentucky,  to  find  a  "  location"  among  the  hunters  and 
pioneers  of  that  then  remote  territory,  with  but  faint  hopes, 
even  in  a  breast  not  prone  to  despondency ;  seemingly  un- 
conscious of  the  talents  and  energies  he  possessed ;  aspiring 
to  three  hundred  dollars  a  year,  as  the  height  of  his  good 
fortune;  taking  early  a  position  at  an  able  bar;  rising 
rapidly  to  the  head  of  it;  soon  going  out  into  politics; 
mingling  familiarly  with  the  frontier  population  around  him, 
and  identifying  himself  with  their  character,  habits,  pursuits, 
and  feelings ;  wrestling  with  the  strong,  though  sometimes 
rough,  champions  for  the  favor  of  a  vigorous,  hard-sensed, 
patriotic  and  unsophisticated  people ;  winning  his  way  by  his 
talents,  and  by  a  boldness  as  necessary  as  talents ;  literally 
fighting  his  way  up  over  obstacles  of  all  kinds,  and  men  of 
all  sorts  and  characters ;  first,  in  the  State  Legislature — 
then  in  the  United  States  Senate — in  the  House — in  the 
Speaker's  chair — and  now  in  the  Cabinet ;  these  were  the 
two  men,  alike  in  splendid  gifts  of  intellect,  yet  so  unlike  in 
character  and  circumstance,  who  now,  weapon  in  hand,  stood 
opposed  in  mortal  combat. 

The  incidents  that  marked  the  meeting  were  character- 
istic of  the  men.  Randolph  refused  to  apologize  or  explain, 
because  he  conceived  that  he,  a  senator,  was  not  amenable  to 
demand  for  an  explanation  of  words,  spoken  in  his  place, 
of  the  conduct  of  a  Cabinet  Minister ;  yet,  with  a  singular 
inconsistency,  he  held  himself  responsible  in  the  field.  He 
seems  to  have  gone  upon  the  ground  determined  not  to  re- 


DUEL  BETWEEN  RANDOLPH  AND  CLAY.        249 

* 

turn  Clay's  fire  ;  thinking  that  it  was  no  violation  of  the  anti- 
duelling  laws  of  Virginia  to  be  shot  at,  when  no  attempt  was 
made  by  him  to  shoot.  Randolph  was  one  of  the  best  pistol 
shots  in  the  United  States.  Clay  was  out  of  practice ;  and 
the  duel  had  been  so  arranged  by  the  seconds,  in  their  desire 
to  avoid  a  fatal  result,  as  to  allow  no  opportunities  for  prac- 
tising. The  word  was  to  be  so  given  out  as  to  force  the 
shots  as  quickly  as  possible.  When  the  mode  of  giving  it 
was  rehearsed  to  Clay,  he  requested  it  to  be  given  with  more 
deliberation,  fearing  that  he  should  not  be  able  to  fire  in 
time.  Thinking  that  Clay's  motive  in  this  request,  was  a 
purpose  to  take  his  life,  Randolph  changed  his  intention  of 
not  firing,  and  determined,  if  he  could,  to  disable,  but  not  to 
kill  his  adversary. 

Randolph's  pistol  fired  accidentally  before  the  word  was 
given,  the 'hair-trigger  being  set  too  finely.  The  shot  fell 
into  the  ground,  a  few  feet  in  front  of  him.  This  accident 
was  embarrassing.  Clay  generously  relieved  the  embarrass- 
ment, by  exclaiming  that  the  firing  was  evidently  an  accident, 
and  begged  that  the  affair  might  go  on.  The  first  shot 
missed.  Clay -after  wards  interrupted  the  efforts  to  bring  the. 
matter  to  an  adjustment,  by  throwing  out  his  hand  in  his  lofty 
way,  and  remarking,  "  Gentlemen,  this  is  child's  play." 
Clay's  next  shot  cut  Randolph's  coat  near  the  hip.  Ran- 
dolph fired  in  the  air,  remarking  to  Clay  that  he  did  so. 
Randolph  then  advanced  and  was  met  half  way  by  Clay. 
The  parties  shook  hands — Randolph  telling  Cky  that  he 
was  in  debt  to  him  for  a  coat,  and  Clay  expressing  his 
11* 


250  JOHN     RANDOLPH. 

gratification  that  he  was  no  deeper  in  his  debt  The  parties 
afterwards  exchanged  cards  and  civilities. 

This  passage  of  arms  was  a  brilliant  vindication  of  a  nice 
sensibility  to  honor,  and  of  a  generous  and  magnanimous 
spirit.  It  throws  light  on  the  character  of  Randolph ;  for, 
though  wanting  in  charity  to  men,  and  hasty  and  harsh  of 
judgment,  he  was  far  from  being  cruel  or  implacable. 

The  session  of  Congress  over,  Randolph  took  his  third 
trip  to  Europe. 

In  1826,  he  was  defeated  by  John  Tyler  for  the  Senate, 
and  seems  to  have  borne  his  defeat  without  a  murmur. 
When  his  loved  mother  withheld  her  favors,  he  submitted 
like  a  docile  child.  He  never  electioneered  for  office.  No 
one  ever  held  himself  more  aloof  from  the  position  of  a  men- 
dicant for  place,  or  shrank,  with  more  instinctive  disgust, 
from  the  low  hucksterings  or  the  under-handed  arts  of  the 
demagogue. 

The  administration  of  Adams  was  in  a  minority  in  Con- 
gress. The  majority  resolutely  opposed  its  policy  and  re- 
commendations, and,  up  to  this  time,  successfully.  Ran- 
dolph had  a  leading,  if  not  the  leading  position  in  the  oppo- 
sition ;  and  his  policy  was  full  of  tact.'  He  was  for  letting 
the  administration  stand  still  in  the  middle  of  the  sea,  and 
to  suffer  it,  with  the  leak  it  had  sprung,  slowly,  but  surely, 
to  settle  and  sink ;  or,  as  he  expressed  it, — "  Our  play  is  to 
win  the  game  ;  to  keep  every  thing  quiet  ;  to  finish  the  in- 
dispensable public  business  and  go  home."  He  imported  the 
expression,  "  masterly  inactivity  " — first  used,  we  believe, 


THE    VIRGINIA    CONVENTION.  251 

by  Horace  Walpole — which  has  been  so  much  bandied  about 
of  late,  and  applied  it  to  the  policy  ta  be  pursued  against 
the  administration  ;  which,  opposed  by  various  parties,  would 
be  strengthened  by  any  definite  creed  or  set  of  measures,  on 
the  part  of  its  heterogeneous  opponents.  He  was  not  for 
parrying  but  for  thrusting — for  carrying  the  war  into  Africa, 
by  a  vigorous  assailment  of  those  in  power  ;  for  he  knew  full 
well  that  a  merely  defensive  position  is  a  losing  game,  in 
politics  as  well  as  in  war. 

Randolph  was  returned  by  his  old  constituents  to  the 
House.  The  same  , policy  was  pursued.  Gen.  Jackson  be- 
came the  candidate  of  the  opposition.  It  was  foreseen  by  all 
men  that  the  old  dynasty  was  going  out.  The  election  re- 
suited  in  favor  of  the  hero.  Randolph  retired  from  Congress. 

For  the  last  two  or  three  years,  his  health  became  even 
worse  than  before.  His  constitution  was  a  wreck.  His 
mind  had  lost  much  of  its  strength  and  coherence.  His 
speeches  had  deteriorated.  They  had  become  more  rambling, 
desultory,  disjointed-,  eccentric,  extravagant.  There  were 
still  vivid,  lightning-like  flashes — still  passages  of  rare  wit 
and  beauty,  lovely  spots  of  sentiment,  and  bold  original 
views ;  but  they  were  often  deformed  by  coarse  vituperation, 
and  weakened  by  repetitions  and  prolixity.  He  was  incapa- 
ble of  the  sustained  power  and  elasticity,  which  distinguish- 
ed him  in  better  days. 

The  Virginia  convention  to  form  a  state  constitution  met 
in  1829,  and  he  was  a  member.  He  attracted  general  and 
eager  attention.  He  was  the  cynosure  of  all  eyes.  In  the 


252  JOHN     RANDOLPH. 

assembly  which  brought  together  all  the  talent  of  the  State — 
the  Ex-Presidents,  the  Chief  Justice  of  the  United  States,  the 
names  already  become  national — names  then  just  rising  into 
prominence — the  first  inquiry  of  the  stranger  was  for  Ran- 
dolph of  Roanoke.  Shrivelled  to  a  skeleton,  huddled  to- 
gether in  his  solitary  seat,  the  old  veteran  sat  apart  from 
the  busy  throng,  watching  with  his  keen,  sarcastic  glance, 
the  progress  of  the  proceedings,  or  moodily  absorbed  in  his 
own  gloomy  reveries.  He  had  dragged  his  shattered  frame, 
with  no  pleasant  feelings,  into  that  assemblage.  He  had 
come,  in  the  spirit  of  a  pious  duty,  to  the  old  commonwealth 
to  which  alone  he  professed  to  owe  allegiance.  He  had  come 
to  ward  off,  if  he  could,  the  blow  which  threatened  the 
destruction  of  the  OLD  CONSTITUTION,  under  which  he  had 
grown  up,  and  which  was  the  representative  of  all  in  the 
past,  that  was  glorious  and  honorable  of  the  land  of  his  fa- 
thers. The  attempt  to  despoil  her  of  the  charter,  under 
which  she  had  marched  out  to  conquer  her  freedom,  and 
under  which  her  great  men  had  been  nurtured,  inspired  him 
with  something  of  the  fire  of  his  fresher  years.  The  olden 
day,  to  which  he  was  so  prone  to  refer,  when  Patrick  Henry, 
and  George  Mason,  and  the  Randolphs  and  the  Lees  held 
sway  over  the  fortunes  of  the  state  ;  when  the  old  families 
flourished ;  when  the  gentry  gave  law  to  the  state,  and  the 
state  to  the  confederacy,  came  back  to  his  memory.  He 
had  always  declaimed  upon  the  degeneracy  of  the  times ; 
but  he  never  even  contemplated  such  degeneracy  as  the 
surrender  of  the  state,  to  what  he  denominated,  a  rabble  rout 


MINISTER    TO    RUSSIA.  253 

of  non-freeholders  ;  committing  the  honor  and  property  of 
Virginia  to  the  keeping  of  its  poverty,  improvidence  and 
ignorance.  He  opposed  all  changes.  Failing  in  that,  he 
sought  to  limit  as  much  as  possible  the  alterations  proposed, 
— to  retain  as  much  as  possible  of  the  spirit  and  conservatism 
of  the  old  constitution.  His  speeches  were  the  most  inter- 
esting, and,  probably,  not  the  least  effective,  that  were  made 
in  that  august  assembly. 

And  now,  these  labors  over,  and  the  new  administration 
installed,  an  autograph  letter  from  Gen.  Jackson,  couched  in 
terms  the  most  flattering  and  respectful,  came  to  him,  ten- 
dering him  the  post  of  Minister  to  Russia.  And,  alas  ! 
poor  old  man  ! — with  the  example  of  Clay,  too,  before  him  ! 
— he  accepted  it! — accepted  it,  when,  daily,  he  spoke  of 
death  as  an  expectant  and  not  dreaded  guest ;  when,  nightly, 
the  sweat  of  a  fast-progressing  disease  was  on  his  brow ; 
when  his  mind  was  alternately  flashing  out  in  light  and  sink- 
ing back  into  darkness ;  when  an  Arctic  winter  was  the  cli- 
mate to  which  the  consumptive  southerner  was  invited  ;  when 
a  strange  people  were  to  be  the  company  for  him,  who  could 
scarcely  endure  with  patience  the  presence  of  a  countryman  ; 
when  patient  diplomacy  was  to  be  the  business  for  one  who 
could  not  always  restrain  himself,  even  on  ordinary  occa- 
sions, from  fitful  bursts  of  vehement  anger  ;  when  the  forms 
and  etiquette  of  a  court  were  to  be  the  clogs  and  fetters  of 
the  proud  Republican,  who  had  never  known  self-denial  or 
opposition  to  his  own  whims,  and  whom  no  restraints  of 
opinion  could  keep  from  breaking  out  into  startling  eccen- 


254  JOHN     RANDOLPH. 

tricities ;  and  when,  emaciated  to  a  skeleton,  the  exhibition 
of  his  person  must  have  caused  to  his  acute  sensitiveness 
the  keenest  mortification.  But  this  was  not  all.  He  was 
physically  unfit  for  the  duties  of  the  post ;  and  the  office  was 
to  be  almost  a  sinecure.  He  was  now  in  the  pay  of  the 
Federal  government — a  placeman — a  "  mercenary  " — Ran- 
dolph of  Roanoke — like  the  rest !  He  had  never  known 
before  any  service,  as  he  never  acknowledged  any  fealty,  to 
any  other  sovereign,  than  the  Commonwealth  of  Virginia. 
He  now  put  on  and  wore  the  Federal  badge.  He  had 
scourged,  with  whips  of  scorpions,  the  placemen — the  flun- 
keys— the  parvenus — the  hirelings  of  Federal  power — and  an 
office-holders  were  such  to  him.  He  had  won  his  influence 
AS  THE  GREAT  CHAMPION  OF  THE  STATES,  by  never  taking 
pay,  or  holding  office,  from  the  Federal  Government.  In  one 
of  his  beautiful  speeches,  he  said  :  "  I  will  go  back  to  the 
bosom  of  my  constituents — to  such  constituents  as  man 
never  had  before,  and  never  will  have  again,  and  I  shall  re- 
ceive from  them  the  only  reward  that  I  ever  looked  for,  but 
the  highest  that  man  can  receive — the  universal  expression 
of  their  approbation — of  their  thanks.  I  shall  read  it  in  their 
beaming  faces ;  I  shall  feel  it  in  their  gratulating  hands. 
Their  very  children  will  climb  around  my  knees,  to  welcome 
me.  And  shall  I  give  up  them  and  this  ? — and  for  what  ? 
For  the  heartless  amusements  and  vapid  pleasures  of  this 
abode  of  splendid  misery,  of  shabby  splendor  ? — for  a  clerk- 
ship in  the  war  office,  or  a  foreign  mission,  to  dance  attend- 
ance abroad,  instead  of  at  home,  or  even  for  a  department 


DENOUNCES  THE  PROCLAMATION.  255 

itself?  "  He"  did  desert  them  for  this  ill-fated  mission.  He 
closed  the  career  of  the  (TREAT  COMMONER,  with  the  diplo- 
matic ribbon  fluttering  from  his  button-hole.  He  went  out 
— did  nothing — pocketed  out-fit,  in-fit,  and  salary,  and  came 
home  to  hear  the  shouts  of  derision,  with  which  the  old 
Federalists  and  the  National  Republicans  were  filling  the 
air  ! 

As  might  have  been  expected,  the  climate  of  Russia  ag- 
gravated his  disease,  and  precipitated  its  fatal  termination. 
He  became  addicted  to  opium,  and  it  contributed  to  those 
aberrations  of  mind,  which  now  became  more  frequent  and 
protracted  than  ever. 

A  year  passed,  and  a  new  question  agitated  the  land.  The 
tariff  of  1828  had  been  succeeded  by  that  of  1832;  and 
South  Carolina  prepared  to  resist.  Randolph  was  in  com- 
munication with  the  South  Carolina  leaders,  and  went  with 
them  in  their  course  of  opposition.  That  gallant  State  at 
last  raised  the  banner  of  forcible  resistance — for  such  it  was. 
She  passed  her  celebrated  ordinance.  Gen.  Jackson  issued 
his  famous  Proclamation.  Randolph  was,  as  he  expressed  it, 
"  a  Jackson  man  "  up  to  this  time.  But  he  was  so  no  long- 
er. He  was  aroused  to  fury  by  this  bold  proceeding.  True 
to  his  old  principles,  he  could  neither  be  purchased  by  grati- 
tude for  the  past,  nor  by  expectations  for  the  future.  He 
took  the  field  against  this  measure.  Too  weak  to  stand,  he 
took  his  seat  on  the  hustings,  and  delivered  to  his  constit- 
uents, at  every  court-house  in  the  district,  speeches  against 
this  Federal  measure.  He  saw  now  what  he  had  done.  He 


256  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

had  raised  up  a  man,  destined  to  exert  a  stronger  influence 
against  his  doctrines,  than  all  the  Presidents  in  the  Union 
put  together. 

In  the  name  of  State-Rights,  in  order  to  break  down 
Adams  and  Clay,  he  had  contributed  to  bring  Jackson  into 
power ;  and  now,  from  him  came  the  Proclamation,  which 
ignored  all  the  sanctions  of  State-Eights';  which  asserted 
the  unqualified  dominion  of  the  Federal  Government  over 
the  States,  their  laws  and  ordinances ;  and  which  shook  the 
halter  in  the  face  of  the  sons  of  a  State,  who  dared  to  act  in 
obedience  to  the  State  authorities,  in  opposition  to  the 
Federal  laws.  No  wonder  Randolph  raved.  No  wonder  he 
spoke  of  buckling  himself  to  his  horse  Radical,  and  plunging 
into  the  fight.  Nor  did  these  doctrines  only  appear  on  the 
face  of  the  paper.  There  were,  also,  the  warning  and  the 
threat.  There  were  the  obedient  majorities  in  Congress. 
There  were  the  Force  bills ;  the  soldiers  under  arms  ;  the 
navy,  waiting  the  orders  to  sail  for  the  blockaded  port ;  and 
not  a  single  state  to  help  South  Carolina  in  her  danger  ;  and 
even  sh«  divided  against  herself.  Worse  than  all,  behind 
the  Proclamation  and  the  threat,  stood  the  iron  man,  who 
knew  no  fear  and  no  relenting,  as  immovable  as  a  mountain, 
and  as  inexorable  as  death ;  and  all  around  him,  in  the 
'  North,  South,  East,  and  West,  were  thousands  of  the  friends 
of  this  great  chief  and  most  of  his  opponents,  shouting  out 
their  applause  of  his  proceeding  and  his  doctrine.  Ran- 
dolph's keen  eye  saw  at  once  the  position  of  things  :  "  If," 
(said  he),  "  Madison  filled  the  Executive  chair,  he  might  be 


HENRY    CLAY.  257 

bullied  into  some  compromise.  If  Monroe  was  in  power, 
he  might  be  coaxed  into  some  adjustment.  But  Jackson 
is  obstinate,  head -strong  and  fond  of  fight.  I  fear  matters 
must  come  to  an  open  rupture.  If  so,  the  Union  is  gone." 
He  spoke  of  the  Proclamation  as  the  ferocious  and  blood- 
thirsty proclamation  of  our  Djezzar  Pacha. 

He  added  :  "•  There  is  one  man  and  only  one,  who  can 
save  this  Union ;  that  man  is  HENRY  CLAY.  He  has  the 
power,  and,  I  believe,  he  will  be  found  to  have  the  requisite 
patriotism  and  firmness." — What  a  commentary  upon  the 
sagacity  of  statesmen  !  Henry  Clay,  to  put  down  whose 
"  wild  federalism "  on  some  small  police  measures  in  the 
comparison,  Gen.  Jackson  was  elected,  now  appealed  to  to 
save  the  country  from  that  degree  of  Federalism,  which  pro- 
posed to  crush  out  the  life  of  a  State  beneath  the  feet  of  a 
Federal  army  ! 

Randolph  was  not  mistaken.  Gen.  Jackson  was  as  firm 
as  a  rock.  He  was  not  a  compromising  man.  He  proposed 
nothing  but  unconditional  submission  to  Federal  law,  or  the 
halter  or  the  bayonet.  This  was  all  he  had  to  say.  Clay 
stepped  forward,  seized  his  own  cherished  offspring,  and 
threw  it  in  the  breach  to  save  his  country,  as  Curtius  threw 
himself  and  his  horse  into  the  yawning  chasm  in  the  streets 
of  Rome.  And  thus  the  political  history  of  Randolph  closed. 
It  terminated  where  it  began,  in  a  contest  for  State-Rights. 
It  began,  by  lifting  his  lance  against  Patrick  Henry,  and  it 
ended,  by  turning  its  point  against  Andrew  Jackson ! 


CHAPTEK  XIII. 

Randolph  as  a  Statesman— The  Leader  of  the  State-Eights  Party— Contrast  be 
tween  hij  Policy  and  Clay's— His  Consistent  and  Heroic  Devotion  to  his  Prin 
ciples. 

\ 

WE  have  signally  failed,  in  the  imperfect  review  we  have 
given  of  the  political  career  of  John  Randolph,  if  we  have 
not  shown  him  to  have  been  something  more  than  an  eccen- 
tric orator  and  brilliant  wit.  We  think  that  he  was  one  of 
the  most  consistent  statesmen  the  Republic  has  ever  produ 
ced ;  and  that  he  is  to  be  regarded  as  the  great  leader  and 
champion  of  the  State-Rights  party.  The  merit  is  his,  if  it 
be  a  merit,  of  governing  his  whole  policy  by  the  rudimental 
principles  of  State-Rights,  as  those  principles  were  pro- 
pounded on  the  organization  of  the  party.  He  opposed 
nearly  every  measure — from  whatsoever  administration  or 
man  proceeding-— in  conflict  with  those  principles.  Their 
friends  were  his  friends,  their  enemies  his  enemies.  Witness 
his  opposition  to  the  Embargo,  to  the  entire  system  restric- 
tive of  commerce,  to  the  war  with  England,  to  all  offensive 
war,  to  the  Banks,  the  Tariff,  Internal  Improvements,  the 


RANDOLPH'S  POLICY.  259 

Missouri  Restrictions,  qualified  by  the  compromise  or  un- 
qualified, to  all  foreign  alliances  or  affiliations,  to  the  Panama 
Mission,  with  its  ulterior  objects,  to  the  Proclamation  and 
the  Force  Bill ;  and  his  vehement,  support  of  all  the  affirma- 
tive doctrines  and  measures  of  State-Rights  policy.  Who 
else  can  show  so  clean  a  record  ?  The  answer  is — not  one  ! 
He  went  further.  He  was  for  the  most  abstemious  possible 
exercise  of  power  compatible  with  the  carrying  on  of  govern- 
ment, even  when  such  power  was  unquestionably  within  the 
pale  of  the  constitutional  grants.  He  sought  to  restrict  the 
governmental  machine  to  its  simplest  and  most  indispensable 
workings. 

But,  it  is  asked,  where  are  his  monuments  ?  Upon  what 
great  measure  of  civil  polity  can  his  friends  lay  their  hands 
and  say,  "  This  is  Randolph's  work  ?  "  None,  we  admit. 
But,  then,  it  must  be  remembered,  that  his  policy  was  the 
policy  of  quiet,  healthy  growth,  and  governmental  non-action. 
^He  might,  if  he  now  lived,  point  to  the  heaps  of  rubbish,  the 
ruins  of  systems  he  had  torn  down,  but  he  could  not  point 
to  any  thing  he  had  built  up ;  for  his  policy  was  negative 
and  simply  protective,  not  positive  and  erective.  His  po- 
licy was  to  protect  the  rights  of  the  citizen,  and  thus  to  stim- 
ulate him  to  work  out  for  himself  and  the  state  the  high- 
est results  of  civilization. 

A  contrast  between  his  policy  and  Clay's  illustrates  the 
former.  Clay  thought  the  General  Government  a  vast  and 
mighty  agency,  which,  made  vital  by  the  will  of  a  free  and 
energetic  people,  could  accomplish,  by  its  affirmative  action, 


260  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

signal  blessings  to  his  country  and  the  world.  He  desired 
to  build  up  a  mighty  nation,  whose  power  should  be  felt  and 
acknowledged  throughout  the  world.  The  AMERICAN  SYSTEM 
was,  through  a  National  Bank,  to  afford  a  national  currency, 
and  to  facilitate  the  transactions  of  commerce  ;  Internal  Im- 
provements were  to  be  the  ties  of  a  close  commercial  com- 
munion and  personal  correspondence  between  the  different 
sections,  and  to  bind  the  States  together  with  bands  of  iron ; 
the  Tariff  was  to  make  us  independent  of  foreign  nations  for 
the  munitions  of  war  and  the  comforts  of  life,  and  to  build 
up  vast  Storehouses  of  wealth  for  the  country ;  the  naviga- 
tion laws  were  to  foster  an  independent  marine  ;  the  Panama 
mission  to  place  us  at  the  head  of  the  continent,  controlling 
and  drawing  its  trade,  and  governing  its  policy ;  the  public 
lands  were  to  give  to  the  States  the  means  of  improving 
their  communications  and  educating  their  people ;  and  a 
navy  and  army  were  to  protect  our  commerce  on  the  ocean, 
and  command  the  respect  of  foreign  powers.  HE  boasted 
that  he  was  an  AMERICAN  CITIZEN,  and  was  proud  of  the 
title,  knowing  no  north,  no  south,  no  east,  no  west.  Ran- 
dolph, on  the  other  hand,  claimed  to  be  a  VIRGINIAN,  owing 
his  primary  and  only  allegiance  to  that  venerable  Common- 
wealth, and  acknowledging  the  Federal  Government  but  as 
a  limited  agency,  which  she,  with  others,  had  established,  for 
a  few  simple  purposes.  His  doctrine  was  that  that  govern- 
ment was  to  be  watched  with  jealousy ;  that  it  had  an  in- 
herent proclivity  to  enlarge  powers  originally  too  strong ; 
which  enlargement  would  lead  to  the  greatest  possible 


RANDOLPH'S  CONSISTENCY.  261 

evil,  consolidation ;  for  he  regarded  that  as  the  worst  species 
of  foreign  domination. 

Such  were  the  different  views  of  these  great  leaders. 

We  think  that  Randolph  was  not  only  a  consistent 
statesman,  but  A  GREAT  MAN.  He  possessed  the  indispensa- 
ble elements  of  greatness — WILL  AND  CONSTANCY.  No  man 
had  these  high  faculties  in  greater  degree.  Bruce,  Hannibal, 
and  Caesar,  were  scarcely  his  superiors  in  this  respect.  His 
admiration  of  Patrick  Henry  and  his  confidence  in  him, 
were  stronger  than  he  felt  for  any  other  man ;  yet,  when 
Henry  supported  the  doctrines  of  the  Federal  party,  he  stood 
firm — nay,  the  first  speech  he  ever  made  was  to  the  crowd, 
yet  thrilling  with  the  eloquence  of  Henry.  He  was  an  ardent 
supporter,  a  personal  friend,  a  blood-relative  of  Jefferson. 
When  Jefferson  abandoned — as  he  thought — his  princi- 
ples, Randolph  stood  fast.  When  Madison  took  the  same 
policy,  Randolph  kept  his  place.  When  Monroe  went  the 
same  way,  he  remained  unmoved.  When  the  whole  Repub- 
lican party  deserted  them,  their  desertion  but  quickened  his 
zeal  and  strengthened  his  steadfastness.  When  the  whole 
country  rose  up  to  second  the  leaders  in  their  aberrations, 
Randolph  was  found  firmly  planted  in  his  old  position. 
When  even  his  native  State  went  over,  he  still  lingered  by 
the  flag.  His  constituents  rose  against  him,  but  they  did 
not  move  him  from  his  purpose.  When  Gen.  Jackson, 
whom,  more  than  any  other  man,  he  had  contributed  to 
bring  into  power,  and  who  had  rewarded  him  with  office, 
turned  upon  State-Rights,  he  turned  upon  him  the  last 


262  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

energies  of  -mind  and  soul  left  him,  with  the  fury  of  a 
tigress,  robbed  of  her  whelps.  He  was,  in  1806,  the  most 
rising  man  of  his  age,  in  the  Republic.  He  had  only  to  lie  still 
upon  the  Republican  wave,  and  be  wafted  into  the  highest  places 
of  the  government.  He  saw  the  principles  he  had  professed 
assailed  by  his  friends,  and  he  hesitated  not  a  moment  to 
oppose  those  friends,  to  the  certain  destruction  of  all  his 
hopes.  Nor  did  he  oppose  assaults  upon  State-Rights  in  a 
halting,  compromising,  hesitating  spirit ;  holding  open  the 
door  of  conciliation,  while  he  uttered  his  defence  of  his 
principles.  No  !  he  threw  away  the  scabbard  when  he  drew 
the  sword,  and  defied  all  extremes  of  hostility,  while  he 
waged  a  warfare  without  mercy  and  without  quarter.  Let  it 
be  remembered,  too,  that  this  warfare  was  not  a  single  cam- 
paign ;  it  was  not  against  a  single  enemy  or  dynasty ;  it  was 
the  protracted  warfare  of  a  whole  life — against  every  single 
administration,  from  the  first  to  the  last,  that  assailed  his 
cherished  doctrines;  and  this  hostility  continued  as  long 
as  he  could  lift  a  lance,  or  utter  a  war-cry. 

No  man  had  more  individuality.  He  thought  and  acted  for 
himself.  He  was  afraid  to  meet  no  man.  He  never  hesi- 
tated, not  only  to  oppose  measures,  but  to  oppose  men, 
not  of  the  opposite  party  only,  but  of  his  own.  His  moral 
courage  was  equal  to  Luther's.  Whatever  danger,  personal 
or  political,  to  him  or  his  fortunes,  or  his  principles,  was  in 
the  way,  he  fearlessly  met.  No  combination  could  daunt 
him.  No  association  of  venal  interests  could  inspire  him 
with  awe.  Whatever  he  chose  to  say,  whomsoever  it  might 


HIS   MORAL    HEROISM.  263 

affect,  he  said  it,  and  said  it  in  the  plainest  English,  and 
with  the  most  cutting  emphasis.  He  could  neither  be 
intimidated  by  his  fears,  nor  bribed  by  his  interests,  nor. 
what  is  more  common,  seduced  by  his  virtues.  No  friend- 
ship or  sense  of  kindness  could  secure  the  perpetrator  of  an 
act  of  political  or  moral  delinquency  from  his  exposure.  No 
personal  or  political  obligation — if  he  ever  acknowledged 
such — could  make  him  blink,  or  waive,  or  deny  a  duty.  He 
was  a  man  of  a  scrupulous  and  religious  veracity  in  word, 
act,  and  thought.  Self-love,  strong  as  it  was,  did  not  blind 
him  to  the  truth  ;  for  he  was  as  harsh  a  judge  of  himself  as 
of  others.  The  light  of  an  ardent  and  dazzling  imagination 
did  not  hide  the  cold,  common-place,  naked  truth  from  his 
eyes.  His  allegiance  to  truth  was  marvellous.  He  did  not 
hesitate  to  announce  sentiments  so  unpopular,  truths  so  unac- 
ceptable, so  revolting  to  the  multitude,  that  men  of  ordinary 
boldness  would  shrink  with  terror,  from  fear  of  being  compro- 
mised by  listening  to  them.  He  had  no  arts  of  concealment. 
He  could  not  restrain  his  sense  of  disgust  of  men,  or  his  con- 
tempt of  them  in  their  presence.  If  sometimes — pity  that 
it  was  so — he  was  unduly  harsh  to  humble  men,  he  was  free 
from  the  meanness  of  seeking  to  conciliate  the  powerful  and 
the  great. 

If  history  gives  us  any  knowledge  of  any  other  public 
man  so  true  and  loyal  to  AN  IDEA,  as  this  man  was,  we  do 
not  know  the  volume  in  which  it  is  written.  He  was  con- 
stant, throughout  his  long  and  troubled  life,  to  this  leading 
principle.  Other  men  deserted  it,  others  forgot  it,  others 


264  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

deviated,  and,  after  a  while,  came  back,  others  were  convert- 
ed to  it ;  but,  amid  all  fluctuations  and  backslidings — through 
evil  and  through  good  report — in  adversity  arid  in  prosperity 
— through  all  changes  of  dynasty — alone  or  in  whatever 
associations, 

"  Among  the  faithless,  faithful  only  he." 

He  stood,  like  a  light-house,  solitary  and  alone,  on  the  bleak 
coast ;  and,  amidst  the  darkness,  and  the  storm,  and  the 
whelming  waves,  with  an  unrewarded  and  self- wasting  fidelity, 
he  gave  out  ever  the  twinkling  light  that  warned  the  heed- 
less ship  of  state  from  the  breakers  and  the  lee  shore  of 
Federalism. 

He  preached  State-Rights,  as  if  his  life  had  been  conse- 
crated to  the  ministry  of  those  doctrines.  Whenever  he 
spoke — whatever  he  wrote — wherever  he  went — State-Rights, 
State-Rights — STATE-EIGHTS  were  the  exhaustless  themes 
of  his  discourse.  Like  Xavier,  with  his  bell  ringing  before 
him,  as  he  walked  amidst  strange  cities,  addressing  the 
startled  attention  of  the  wayfarers,  with  the  messages  of 
salvation,  and  denouncing  the  coming  wrath  ;  Randolph 
came  among  men,  the  untiring  apostle  of  his  creed,  ever 
raising  his  shrill  voice,  "  against  the  alarming  encroachments 
of  the  Federal  Government." 

Nor  was  he  without  his  reward.  The  distinctive  doc- 
trines of  his  school,  in  their  fundamental  and  primitive  purity, 
were  well-nigh  lost,  after  the  era  of  the  fusion  of  parties  in 
Monroe's,  if  not,  indeed,  under  the  "silken  Mansfieldism  J1 
of  Madison's  administration.  The  old  knights  and  cavaliers 


HIS    INFLUENCE.  265 

of  the  South  were  living,  indeed,  but  were  torpid  ;  like — as 
we  have  somewhere  seen  it  quoted — the  knightly  horsemen, 
in  the  ENCHANTED  CAVE,  seated  on  their  steeds  with  lances 
in  rest  and  warlike  port,  but  rider  and  horse  spell-bound 
and  senseless  as  marble,  until  the  magician  blew  his  horn, 
when,  at  the  first  blast,  they  quickened  into  life,  and  sprang 
forth  again  to  deeds  of  chivalrous  emprize ;  so  Randolph's 
clarion  tones  waked  the  leaders  of  his  party  to  battle  for  the 
cause  of  their  order. 

But  suppose  he  had  no  reward  ?  Suppose  all  this  labor 
and  all  this  life  were  poured,  like  water,  in  the  sand  ?  Sup- 
pose he  had  followed,  always,  a  losing  banner  ?  What  then  ? 
Are  we  wasting  ink  and  paper  in  recording  the  annals  of 
such  a  warfare — the  story  of  such  a  man  ?  Are  martyrs  so 
common — is  heroic  constancy  so  frequent,  and  devotion  to 
principle  and  love  of  truth  such  vulgar  things,  in  this  our 
age  of  political  purity  and  sainted  statesmanship,  that  a  man, 
consecrating  the  noblest  faculties  to  the  service  of  his  coun- 
try, and  following  no  meaner  lights  than  the  judgment  and 
conscience  God  gave  him,  to  guide  his  steps  through  a  long 
road  of  trial  and  temptation,  is  unworthy  of  being  held  up 
for  admiration  and  reverence  ? 


12 


CHAPTER,  XIV. 

Eandolph's  Character  and  Death. 

THE  character  of  this  remarkable  man  is  a  subject  of  vari- 
ous and  contradictory  speculation,  and  it  may  seem  presump- 
tuous to  attempt  any  thing  like  a  satisfactory  analysis  of  it. 
He  has  had  the  misfortune  which  attaches  to  most  men  of 
fertile  wit  and  brilliant  powers.  Men  seem  unwilling  to 
accord  multiplicity  of  gifts  to  any  man.  The  same  depre- 
ciating incredulity,  which  "  shook  its  head  at  Murray  for  a 
wit,"  and  which  made  Elizabeth  pronounce  Bacon  a  man 
of  parts,  "  but  not  deep  in  law,"  has  denied  to  Randolph, 
because  of  his  showy  qualities,  the  possession  of  stronger  and 
higher  powers.  But,  we  think,  that  this  judgment  is  par- 
tial and  unjust.  True,  he  had  a  most  extraordinary  endow- 
ment of  wit  and  the  lighter  graces.  He  was,  beyond  all 
comparison,  the  wittiest  man  of  his  time.  He  overflowed 
with  wit.  He  wasted  more  wit  than  men,  characteristically 
witty,  give  out.  Sheridan  had  not  the  same  ease  and  flow 
of  wit ;  the  same  tropical  luxuriance  of  fancy ;  the  same 


HIS    GIFTS    AND    ATTAINMENTS.  267 

spontaneity,  aptness  and  raciness.  Randolph's  wit  was  much 
more  than  humor.  It  was  a  refined,  wire-edged  and  dia- 
mond-pointed COMMON  SENSE  ;  a  sharp  and  shrewd  sagacity, 
which,  while  it  had  the  edge  of  sarcasm,  had,  also,  the  force 
of  argument.  Randolph  had  the  rare  faculty  of  interpreting 
for  the  crowd  ;  of  translating,  in  better  and  apter  language, 
the  thoughts  passing  in  the  mind  of  the  hearer ;  who  was 
delighted  to  find  that  Randolph  was  only  thinking  his 
thoughts.  His  verbal  aptness  was  astonishing.  When 
any  thing  was  to  be  characterized  by  an  epithet,  he,  at  once, 
characterized  it,  by  a  word  or  phrase  so  striking  and  pat, 
that  it  created  the  surprise  and  the  pleasure  which  are  the 
most  marked  effects  of  wit.  He  had  the  same  aptness  of 
quotation.  No  man  made  the  resources  of  others  more  sub- 
servient to  his  own  purposes.  He  did  not  merely  appropri- 
ate. He  gave  a  new  value  to  the  quoted  sentence.  There 
was  as  much  genius  in  the  selection  and  application,  as  in 
the  conception  and  expression  of  the  idea.  His  ingenuity 
was  very  great.  He  had  the  faculty  of  seeing  remote  analo- 
gies and  correspondences  ;  and  of  accumulating  around  a  dry, 
isolated,  and  uninviting  topic,  a  multitude  of  images,  facts, 
suggestions  and  illustrations.  His  memory  was  upon  the 
same  scale.  It  was  comprehensive  and  retentive,  taking  in 
the  whole  superficies  of  the  subject,  and  the  minutest  details. 
His  information  extended  to  a  large  variety  of  subjects.  In 
polite  learning,  especially  in  the  standard  works  of  English 
literature,  he  was  accomplished  beyond  most  of  the  literati 
of  his  country ;  and  his  taste  and  appreciation  of  the  latent 


268  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

and  patent  beauties  and  excellencies  of  the  great  classics 
were  unsurpassed.  Had  he  turned  his  attention  to  litera- 
ture, as  a  pursuit,  it  is  not  going  too  far  to  say,  that  he 
would  have  enriched,  not  merely  American  literature,  but 
the  English  tongue,  with  some  of  the  rarest  contributions 
made  in  his  day,  by  genius  to  letters.  He  mastered  history 
with  like  ease.  He  was  supposed  to  have  a  more  minute 
and  accurate  knowledge  of  geography  than  any  man  of  his 
country ;  and  he  even  committed  the  book  of  Heraldry  of 
England  to  memory,  and  could  repeat  the  annals  of  the  no- 
ble houses  of  that  kingdom,  in  their  details.  But,  most 
largely  developed  of  all  his  faculties,  probably,  was  his 
quick,  clear,  and  deep  comprehension.  His  finely-toned  and 
penetrative  intellect  possessed  an  acumen,  a  perspicuity 
which  was  as  quick  and  vivid  as  lightning.  His  conclusions 
did  not  wait  upon  long  and  labored  inductions.  His  mind, 
as  by  an  instinctive  insight,  darted  at  once  upon  the  core  of 
the  subject,  and  sprang,  with  an  electric  leap,  upon  the  conclu- 
sion. He  started  where  most  reasoners  end.  It  is  a  mis- 
take to  suppose  that  he  was  deficient  in  argumentative  pow- 
er. He  was  as  fertile  of  argumentation  as  most  speakers; 
he  was  only  deficient  in  argumentative  forms.  His  state- 
ments were  so  clear,  so  simplified  and  so  vivid,  that  they 
saved  him  much  of  the  necessity  of  laborious  processes  of x 
ratiocination.  Much  that  looked  like  declamation  was  only 
illustration,  or  another  form  of  argument.  He  was  too 
prodigal  of  illustrations  ;  and  sometimes  his  love  of  verbal 
felicities,  of  exquisite  niceties,  and  artistical  finish  of  expres- 


HIS   TEMPERAMENT.  269 

sion,  led  him  into  repetitions  of  what  he  had  well  enough 
said  before.  - 

He  usually  spoke  without  preparation  ;  and  his  speeches 
depended  much  upon  the  state  of  his  nervous  system.  He 
was,  therefore,  an  unequal  speaker  ;  sometimes  speaking  with 
great  felicity,  and  sometimes  with  diminished  power ;  but 
seldom  or  never  dull  or  uninteresting,  though  often  erratic, 
eccentric  and  diffuse. 

His  vanity  was  not  excessive.  "  He  was  too  proud  to  be 
vain."  He  boasted  that  he  scorned  every  thing  merely 
"  popular  and  eleemosynary."  His  ear  did  not  itch  for  general 
applause ;  though  he  was  solicitous  of  the  approbation  of 
men  he  loved  and  esteemed.  His  eccentricities  proceeded, 
in  a  great  measure,  from  the  vehemence  of  his  faculties  and 
passions ;  from  his  disregard  of  the  general  opinion,  and 
from  the  isolation  of  his  habits  and  character.  He  had  the 
advantage  and  the  disadvantage  of  a  want  of  caution  ;  the  ad- 
vantage which  an  uncramped  and  unstinted  individuality, 
and  the  freest  use  of  his  powers  give  a  speaker,  and  the  dis- 
advantage of  being  betrayed  into  extravagance,  and  unten- 
able positions7~and  needless  offences  against  the  opinions  and 
tastes  of  his  auditors. 

To  the  account  of  his  bodily  infirmities,  must  be  placed 
much  of  the  acerbity  and  excesses  of  his  temper.  He  was 
seldom  in  good  health.  His  nervous  system  was  extremely 
irritable.  His  disease  was  peculiarly  annoying  to  the  tem- 
per. So  delicately-toned  were  his  fibres  and  nerves,  that  he 
complained  that  he  was  "  like  a  man  without  a  skin."  An 


270  JOHN     RANDOLPH. 

east  wind  caused  him  the  greatest  uneasiness.  He  was  a 
hypochondriac.  His  tastes  were  fastidious.  He  was  easily 
disgusted  with  things  inharmonious  with  his  habits  or  mental 
condition.  He  was  eminently  unsocial,  proud,  reserved,  un- 
communicative. He  could  endure  no  associations  that  were 
uncongenial.  He  had  no  faculty  of  assimilation  or  adaptation. 
His  firmness  and  self-esteem  gave  him  such  individuality,  that 
he  could  not  seem  to  be,  or  to  act,  except  in  subordination 
to  his  ruling  qualities  ;  which  were  inflexible  laws  to  him. 
It  was  unfortunate  for  him,  that  his  whole  education  fostered 
these  characteristics.  He  was  brought  up  in  the  lap  of  in- 
dulgence. He  had  never  known  self-denial.  He  was  a 
spoiled  boy.  Left  to  himself  early,  he  became  "  Lord  of 
himself,  that  heritage  of  woe."  He  had  wealth,  attention, 
adulation,  the  means  of  self-indulgence,  to  come  in  aid  of  a 
temper  naturally  proud,  self-willed  and  domineering.  He 
was  vindictive.  He  acknowledged  and  deplored  it  often. 
But  he  was  neither  implacable  nor  habitually  cruel,  nor  un- 
just to  his  enemies.  The  spectacle  of  pain  unmanned  him ; 
and  it  frequently  turned  him,  in  a  moment,  from  rage  to  pity 
and  remorse.  His  sentiments  were  naturally  just,  and  he 
was  occasionally  capable  of  acts  of  magnanimity.  The  want 
of  charity  was  his  greatest  defect.  He  had  never  learned  to 
regard  man  as  a  brother.  He  had  never  considered  himself 
as  parcel  of  a  general  humanity.  He  was  frequently  neglect- 
ful, and  sometimes  indifferent  to  the  feelings  of  others  ;  at 
other  times  harsh  and  cruel ;  but,  in  many  of  these  instances, 
his  wilfulness  or  his  impulses  betrayed  him  into  these  acts, 


HIS    UNHAPPINESS.  271 

without  his  being  conscious — so  free  was  he  from  sympa- 
thy with  other  men — of  the  pain  he  was  inflicting. 

We  think  that  he  was  an  honest  and  conscientious  man. 
The  general  tone  of  his  mind  was  pure  and  elevated.  He 
had  a  large  sense  of  reverence,  and  an  exquisite  sense  of  the 
beautiful  and  good.  He  defended  and  supported  his  positions 
upon  high  moral  grounds.  He  seldom  or  never  pandered  to 
the  groundling  and  vile  prejudices  or  passions  of  the  mob. 
In  some  instances,  he  showed  a  morbid  conscienciousness ; 
for  example,  in  the  treatment  of  his  slaves. 

His  affections,  though  not  diffusive,  were  constant  and 
vehement.  For  his  friends,  no  man  felt  a  livelier  or  deeper 
interest.  He  concentrated  upon  them  the  love  due  to  the 
race.  He  seems,  as  a  consequence  of  his  isolation,  to  have 
personified  his  State-Rights  principles  and  his  native  state ; 
and  he  lavished  upon  them  the  devotion  he  extended  to  his 
few  bosom  friends. 

We  have  omitted  in  our  review,  much  of  the  private 
history  of  this  extraordinary  personage,  especially  a  notice 
of  the  voluminous  later  correspondence  illustrating  the 
inner  life  of  Randolph.  His  letters  breathe  the  dreariest,  dis- 
malest  state  of  feeling,  of  which  any  account  is  given  in  story. 
The  darkness  is  Cimmerian  ;  the  gloom  and  despair  nearly 
those  of  the  pit,  over  whose  gates  is  inscribed :  "  There  is  no 
hope  within."  His  life  seemed  along  sigh  of  hopeless  pain 
— a  long  groan  of  intolerable  agony.  Sometimes  he  was 
insane.  At  other  times,  so  miserable  and  dependent  that 


272        •  JOHN    RANDOLPH. 

insanity  itself — the  evil  next  to  death,  if  not  a  greater  evil — 
was  scarcely  a  thing  to  be  dreaded. 

Who  shall  place  to  his  account  the  deeds  he  did  when  in 
this  state  ?  Who  does  not  regard  him,  even  when  consider- 
ing his  most  harsh  and  unfeeling  acts,  as  a  man  more  to  be 
pitied  than  blamed?  and  think  that  a  harsher  judgment 
would  be  imitating  his  own  want  of  charity  for  an  erring 
man,  without  his  apology  to  plead  for  the  imitation  ? 

The  solitude  he  courted  was  his  worst  enemy.  The 
brooding  mind  preyed  upon  itself;  and  the  bright  intellect, 
like  polished  steel,  was  consumed  by  its  own  rust.  He  de- 
rived pleasure  mostly  from  the  exercise  of  his  brilliant 
and  active  intellect ;  and  from  the  most  agreeable  of  these 
exercises — the  social — he  cut  himself  off  by  his  hermit-like 
seclusion.  Solitude,  so  necessary,  at  times,  to  ripen  genius, 
and  freshen  and  purify  it  for  its  loftiest  efforts,  but  fostered 
his  selfishness,  .and  deepened  his  gloom,  by  his  habit  of 
brooding  over  his  physical  and  mental  maladies. 

The  causes  of  his  unhappiness  are  patent  enough.  Apart 
from  his  other  diseases,  he  was  hypochondriacal,  sometimes 
even  to  hysteria.  Hypochondriacism  is  itself  a  dreadful 
disease,  or,  at  least,  the  consequence  of  it.  External  cir- 
cumstances, some  of  which  we  have  noticed,  had  much  to  do 
with  his  unhappiness.  He  may  be  considered,  too,  during 
most  of  his  life,  an  unsuccessful  man.  His  political  life  was 
a  series  of  failures,  relieved,  here  and  there,  by  an  occasional 
success.  He  saw  other  men  of  less  talent  rising  far  above 
him  in  place  and  fortune.  But  the  most  effective  cause  of 


HIS    UNGOVERNABLE    TEMPER.  273 

his  unhappiness,  he  has  given  himself.     It  was   "  his  un- 
governable temper.'1     His  fierce  passions  had  destroyed  the 
balance    of  his    character.       Vindictiveness   is   more   of   a 
scourge  to  its  possessor  than  to  his  enemy.     There  can  be 
no  peace  of  mind — without  which  there  can  be  no  happiness 
— where  the  heart  is  in  perpetual  warfare.     He  had  brought 
down    on   himself  a  host   of  enemies.     He   never   made  a 
speech  that  he  did  not  make  more   enemies  than    converts. 
The  diabolical  keenness  of  his  wit  planted  wounds,  for  which 
he  was  never  forgiven.     He  was  as  sensitive  to  pain  as  he 
was  prompt  to  inflict  it ;  and  he  felt  in  turn  the  suffering  he 
caused.     If  he  cut  at  his  antagonists  with  a  bold  and  trench- 
ant blade,  he  received  quite  as  many  and   as  sharp  blows  as 
he  dealt.     He  was  no  doubt,  too,  often   called  to  suffer  the 
retribution,  which  his  conscience  inflicted  upon  him,  for  wrong 
and  injury,  done  often  in  the  heat  and  impulse — for  he  was 
greatly  governed  by  his  impulses — of  momentary  excitement. 
He  was  not  incapable,  like  some   other  politicians,  of  doing 
justice  to   his  political  enemies.     Of  Marshall,  Hamilton, 
Rufus   King,  in  some  degree  of  Clay,  Calhoun,  Webster, 
even  JeffersoiT  and  Madison,  he  spoke  in  later  life,  in  terms, 
if  not,  as  to  all  of  them,  of  justice,  yet  in  a  spirit  far  from 
acrimonious ;  and  even  in  language,  evincive  of  at  least  a 
partial  conquest  of  truth  and  charity  over  previous  preju- 
dice and  ill-blood. 

But  it  must  not  be  forgotten,  that,  if  disposed  to  be  a 
bitter  and  harsh  foe,  he  was  an  open  one  ;  not  condescending 
to  underhanded  detraction ;  making  no  affectation  of  friend- 
12* 


2/4  JOHN     RANDOLPH. 

ship,  when  he  did  not  feel  it,  and   saying  the  most  publicly 
the  most  bitter  things. 

This  harshness,  pride,  uncharitableness,  and  want  of 
magnanimity,  and  of  a  pervading  love  for  his  race,  are,  cer- 
tainly, great  draw-backs  from  the  fame  of  a  statesman.  But 
we  must  take  greatness  as  we  find  it.  Bedded  in  humanity, 
it  comes  to  us,  more  or  less,  in  association  with  human 
frailty.  We  may  regret — but  we  cannot  wholly  condemn  him 
for  the  defect — that  the  incorruptible  truth  and  stern  virtue 
of  Cato  were  not  associated  with  the  clemency,  generosity, 
and  flowing  affability  of  Caesar ;  and  that,  to  the  constancy 
and  intrepidity  of  Randolph,  were  not  allied  the  suavity  and 
gentleness  of  manners,  which  had  made  these  sterner  attributes 
to  be  loved  as  well  as  admired. 

But  few  words  remain  to  be  added.  The  disease  which 
had  struggled  so  long  for  mastery  with  the  unyielding,  but 
seemingly  so  fragile  form,  was  now  making  sure  of  its  prey. 
It  had  been  greatly  aggravated  by  his  sojourn  in  Russia ; 
and  now  the  pallid  cheek  and  feeble  frame,  the  tottering 
gait,  and  the  seal  of  decay  and  weakness  in  the  shrivelled 
and  languid  face,  gave  token  that  the  power  of  resistance  to 
its  inroads  was  nearly  gone.  Another  visit  to  England  was 
concluded  upon,  as  the  last  hope  of  relief.  He  sat  out  on 
his  last  journey.  He  reached  Washington,  and  dragged  his 
emaciated  body,  with  difficulty,  into  the  Senate-Chamber. 
Sinking  with  feebleness  and  the  exhaustion  of  the  effort,  he 
caught  the  sound  of  Clay's  voice,  as  the  latter  was  address- 
ing the  chair.  He  asked  "to  be  held  up,  that  he  might 


HIS    DEATH   AND  BURIAL.  275 

listen  to  that  voice  again."  Clay  turned,  and  saw  him. 
Moved  by  his  haggard  look,  with  the  death-warrant  in  his 
face,  the  magnanimous  Kentuckian  approached  his  old  rival 
and  foe.  The  interview  was  touching.  All  the  past  was 
forgotten,  and  the  greetings  of  the  illustrious  commoners 
were  kind  and  tender.  They  parted  in  peace  and  good  will, 
never  to  meet  again  upon  earth. 

Randolph,  in  fast  declining  health,  reached  Philadel- 
phia, whither  he  went  to  take  passage  from  that  port.  He 
was  too  late  for  the  Liverpool  packet.  He  exposed  himself 
to  the  inclemency  of  the  weather,  took  cold,  which  aggra- 
vated his  disease,  and  hastened  its  fatal  termination.  He 
was  put  to  bed — his  death-bed — in  his  lodgings,  at  the  City 
Hotel  The  idiosyncracies  which  had,  of  late  years  espe- 
cially, marked  his  demeanor,  distinguished  the  last  hours 
of  his  life.  The  sudden  bursts  of  petulance  which  disease 
wrung  from  him ;  the  affecting  kindness  and  tenderness 
which  disease  could  not  wholly  take  from  him ;  the  rambling 
conversation  in  the  intervals  of  acute  suffering,  in  some  pas- 
sages, as  brilliant  as  ever — the  last  gleams  of  the  sinking 
lamp ;  the  gro~anings  of  remorse,  which  a  review  of  his  past 
life,  at  the  bar  of  a  stern  self- judgment,  drew  from  his  con- 
trite heart ;  the  fervid  prayer ;  the  hesitating  hope ;  the 
trust,  qualified  by  self-condemnation,  in  the  Saviour,  whose 
name  he  professed ;  the  concluding  act,  ere  the  curtain  fell 
upon  the  last  scene  of  earth,  when,  propped  up  by  pil- 
lows, he  called  witnesses  to  his  confirmation  of  his  will,  pro- 
viding for  the  freedom  and  support  of  his  slaves,  and  the 


276  JOHN     RANDOLPH. 

last  conscious  words,  which  fired  his  eye  and  braced  his 
sinking  frame,  as,  speaking  in  this  connection,  he  laid  his  skel- 
eton hand  strongly  upon  the  shoulder  of  his  faithful  servant, 
John,  and  said  with  emphasis — "  especially  for  this  man." 
And  then — this  last  charge  upon  his  conscience  off — his 
mind  wandered  away  to  the  light,  and  the  scenes,  and  the 
friends  of  the  Early  Day ;  and,  the  mutterings  of  the  voice 
growing  gradually  fainter,  as  he  passed  on  into  the  thicker 
shadows  of  the  DARK  VALLEY,  the  fluttering  pulse  stood 
still,  and  John  Randolph  of  Roanoke  was  numbered  with 
the  dead !  (June  24,  1833,  aged  sixty.) 

They  carried  him  back  to  his  solitary  home,  and  buried 
him — in  death  as  in  life,  unsocial  and  isolated — in  the  forest 
of  R-oanoke.  In  the  soil  of  the  Virginia  he  loved  so  well, 
they  laid  the  corse  of  her  faithful  and  devoted  son.  They 
left  him  to  rest,  after  the  long  fever  of  his  troubled  dream 
of  life  was  over,  in  a  humble  and  sequestered  grave,  beneath 
two  stately  pines.  There  let  him  sleep  on !  The  gloom  of 
their  shade,  and  the  melancholy  sighing  of  the  wind  through 
their  boughs,  are  fit  emblems  of  the  life  which  was  breathed 
out  in  sadness  and  in  sorrow. 


ANDREW  JACKSON  AND  HENRY  CLAY 


CHAPTER  I. 

Party  Strife  from  1835  to  '45— Party  Spirit— Jackson  and  Clay— Points  of  Resem- 
blance— A  New  Country— .Jackson— His  Character,  Public  and  Private— As  a 
General — As  a  Party  Leader— Adams'sElection — Clay's  Blunders. 

THE  mists  of  prejudice,  which  enveloped  the  prominent  actors 
in  the  party-struggle,  commencing  in  1835,  and  raging  for 
ten  years,  with  almost  unabated  fury,  are  fast  disappearing 
from  the  land.  European  tourists  and  statesmen  have  ex- 
pressed their  surprise,  that  questions  of  such  little  moment, 
as  existed  between  the  Whig  and  Democratic  parties,  should 
have  so  agitated  the  public  mind,  and  so  widely  and  bitterly 
divided  the  American  people.  It  must  be  confessed  that  in 
Europe,  parties  are  formed  upon  a  wider  base.  Politics  in 
Europe  involve,  for  the  most  part,  to  a  greater  or  less  de- 
gree, the  foreign  as  well  as  the  domestic  relations  of  the 
nation ;  and  the  interests,  not  to  say  the  fate,  of  other  coun- 
tries or  dynasties.  And  even  when  the  policy  is  more  local 
in  its  character,  it  often  involves  more  radical  principles — 
the  organism  rather  than  the  mode  of  administering  a  gov- 
ernment, upon  a  commonly  recognized  basis  or  ground-work. 


278  PARTY     SPIRIT. 

We  have  the  inestimable  blessings  of  a  written  constitu 
tion  and  of  a  republican  system.  We  have  the  leading 
principles  of  government  limited  and  defined.  We  are  all 
Republicans.  The  rights  of  all  freemen  and  the  rights  of  all 
the  States  are  equal.  The  powers  of  the  Federal  Govern- 
ment, and  those  of  the  State  Governments,  are  marked  out 
with  such  precision,  that  it  is  almost  impossible  to  make 
such  mistake  as  will  vitally  affect  the  scheme  of  their  re- 
spective constitutions. 

When  we  look  back  upon  the  fierce  struggles  through 
which  the  nation  has  passed,  and  recall  the  exaggerated  de- 
clamation, the  ferocious  criminations,  the  bustling  activities 
and  the  pervasive  organization  of  party,  we  feel  inclined  to 
smile  as  we  reflect  that  all  this  machinery  and  excitement 
were  occasioned  by  a  contest  about  a  bank,  a  tariff,  a  distri- 
bution of  proceeds  of  public  property,  and  the  like  measures 
of  police.  At  least  these  were  the  avowed  principles.  But 
it  may  be  doubted  if  they  were  the  real  source  of  the  party 
excitement.  The  zeal  and  violence  of  parties  are  not  always 
measured  by  the  magnitude  of  the  principles  or  measures  in- 
volved. When  matters  are  trivial,  they  are  magnified  by  the 
politicians,  and  are  received  by  the  people,  in  that  exaggerated 
form. 

The  feeling  of  partisanship  seems  natural  to  man.  The 
two  main  elements  of  it  are  sympathy  and  combativeness. 
After  taking  sides,  the  selfish  and  social  passions  are  aroused, 
and  grow  warmer  as  the  conflict  goes  on,  until,  in  due  time, 
the  excitement  spends  its  force,  and  first  repose,  and  after- 


PARTY   CONTESTS    IN    AMERICA.  279 

wards  re-action  ensue.  Organization  is  itself  a  powerful  fo- 
menter  of  zeal  and  violence ;  agitation  grows  epidemic ;  mind 
acts  on  mind ;  and,  as  in  a  mob,  by  a  sort  of  contagious  ex- 
citement and  a  division  of  responsibility,  men  think  and  do, 
when  aggregated,  what  each  one  singly  would  be  ashamed 
of,  or  shrink  from,  as  weak  or  wicked. 

The  most  ignorant  are  the  most  prone  to  this  passion. 
They  go  into  a  political  struggle,  as  they  take  sides  in  a 
muster  fight.  They  are  drawn  by  clamor,  like  bees,  as  by  an 
instinct.  They  cannot  help  it.  They  love  the  excitement. 
It  gives  employment  to  all  their  passions.  It  swells  their 
importance.  It  gives  them  a  sense  of  power.  They  are 
flattered  by  the  leaders.  They  find  employment  in  promo- 
ting the  common  enterprise.  They  become  identified  with  it. 
A  sort  of  free-masonry  of  feeling  and  affiliation  grows  up 
between  the  members.  The  jealousies  and  strifes  of  rivalry 
and  opposition,  party  and  individual,  tend  to  wed  them  more 
closely  to  their  own,  and  to  separate  them  from  the  opposite 
party  and  its  members. 

Politics  are  the  safety-valves  that  let  off  the  discontent, 
and  the  surplus  energies  of  our  people.  What  the  theatre 
is  to  the  French,  or  the  bull-fight  or  fandango  to  the  Span- 
iard, the  hustings  and  the  ballot-box  are  to  our  people.  We 
are  all  politicians,  men,  women  and  children  ;  and,  therefore, 
it  is  not  surprising,  that  we  should  all  be  terribly  excited  on 
the  eve  of  an  election,  even  when  the  issues  are  not  impor- 
tant. It  does  not  cost  us  any  thing  to  be  excited,  as  it  does 
other  countries.  We  like  the  fun  of  it.  There  is  no  dan- 


280  JACKSON    AND    CLAY 

ger  in  it ;  for  the  steam  being  unconfined,  the  fiercest  explo- 
sions of  wrath  are  only  the  bursting  of  rockets  in  the  upper 
air. 

In  the  Whig  and  Democratic  struggle  it  may  well  be 
doubted,  whether  the  personal  question  were  not  the  substan- 
tive one — the  who  rather  than  the  what,  the  men  rather  than 
the  measures.  We  do  not  speak  in  condemnation  of  parties, 
nor  is  it  worth  while  to  say  any  thing  in  animadversion  of  the 
undue  excitement  of  party  spirit.  We  must  take  the  evil 
with  the  good.  But  while  the  principles  which  have  divided 
parties  are  doubtless  important,  it  is  simply  ridiculous  to  at- 
tribute to  them,  either  in  their  immediate  or  remote  effects, 
in  their  causes  or  their  results,  or  in  the  mode  in  which  they 
were  carried  or  prevented,  the  degree  of  importance  attached 
to  them  by  partisans.  The  country  could  have  gone  on 
under  either  scheme,  and  the  difference  in  its  condition  would 
scarcely  have  been  noticed.  Apart  from,  and  rising  above 
mere  party  questions,  doubtless,  were  others  in  which  the 
great  men  whose  names  head  this  article  were  conspicuously 
concerned,  and  which  were  well  worthy  of  all  the  efforts  made 
in  their  behalf.  Such  were  the  questions  of  the  war  with 
Great  Britain,  and  the  three  compromises  of  1820,  1832 
and  1850,  in  all  of  which  Clay  was  a  prominent  actor. 
Compared  with  these  in  importance,  those  questions  which 
were  peculiar  to  the  respective  party  creeds  (the  Texas  an- 
nexation question,  in  its  principles  and  its  ultimate  effects, 
perhaps,  excepted)  were  of  little  moment ;  the  main  and 
characteristic  principles  of  republican  government  being 


POINTS    OF    RESEMBLANCE.  281 

equally  conceded  by  both,  and  equally  the  basis  of  Whig  and 
Democratic  organization  and  profession. 

But  it  was  through  these  questions,  and  through  this  or- 
ganization, that  the  characters  of  Jackson  and  Clay  were  im- 
pressed upon  the  country,  and  their  weight  and  influence,  in 
the  formation  of  opinion,  felt  by  the  age  in  which  they  lived. 
That  Jackson  and  Clay  were  great  men,  especially  in  that 
sense  which  defines  greatness  to  be  the  power  to  control  men 
and  mould  opinion  or  action,  will  not  be  denied ;  the  degree 
of  this  greatness,  absolute  and  relative,  may  be. 

There  were  many  points  of  similitude  between  these  illus- 
trious antagonists.  As  party  men,  they  seemed  to  stand  in 
irreconcilable  antagonism.  They  were  so  in  interest,  in  posi- 
tion, in  feeling.  Yet,  with  all  this  opposition,  there  was  a 
striking  correspondence  between  them,  not  only  in  charac- 
ter, but  in  many  points  of  exterior  resemblance. 

Both  were  born,  or  received  their  earliest  impressions, 
in  Revolutionary  times,  or  from  the  principles  of  the  Revo- 
lution. 

Jackson  was  the  elder.  But  the  spirit  and  genius  of  the 
Revolution,  outlasting  the  period  of  actual  hostilities,  was 
equally  the  inspiration  of  Clay's  awakening  and  fervid 
mind. 

Both  were  denied  the  advantages  of  education.  Both 
made  a  new  country  the  theatre  of  their  earliest  exertions. 
Both  were  natives  of  the  South,  and  emigrated  to  a  new 
Southern  state,  with  a  population  like  that  of  the  state  of 
their  birth.  Both  were  dependent  alone  upon  their  own  ex- 


282  JACKSON    AND    CLAY. 

ertions,  and  equally  independent  of  adventitious  aid.  Both 
were  the  architects  of  their  own  fortunes.  Both  chose  the 
profession  of  the  law  as  their  first  introduction  to  the  pub- 
lic ;  and  both,  though  in  unequal  degree,  encountered  the 
same  opposition,  and  met  with  early  success.  Both  dis- 
played from  the  start  the  same  enterprising  spirit,  the  same 
obduracy  and  vehemence  of  will,  the  same  almost  arrogant 
defiance  of  opposition,  the  same  tenacity  and  continuity 
of  purpose,  the  same  moral  and  personal  daring.  Jack- 
son introduced  himself  to  the  practice  by  undertaking 
the  prosecution  of  suits,  which  others,  of  a  profession  not 
used  to  quail  before  danger  or  shrink  from  responsibility 
were  intimidated  from  representing.  Clay  enrolled  himself, 
a  boy,  among  the  competitors  of  the  strongest  bar  in  Ken 
tucky,  and  issued  his  writ  against  one  of  the  most  prominent 
and  powerful  of  them,  in  favor  of  an  obscure  bar-keeper,  at 
the  certain  cost  of  the  defendant's  deadly  resentment ;  and 
defied  that  hatred  to  its  extremest  manifestations.  Both 
early  impressed  themselves  upon  the  community  around 
them,  and  were  distinguished  for  the  same  personal  charac- 
teristics. Both  rose  at  once  to  posts  of  honor  and  distinc- 
tion ;  and  at  an  early  age  enrolled  their  names,  and  to  the 
last  preserved  them,  among  the  first  and  highest  of  the  re- 
public. Both  were  men  of  quick  perception;  of  prompt 
action ;  of  acute  penetration  ;  of  business  capacity  ;  of  mas 
culine  common  sense ;  of  quick  and  unerring  judgment  of 
men ;  of  singular  fertility  of  resources ;  of  remarkable 
power  to  create  or  avail  themselves  of  circumstances ;  of 


RESEMBLANCE    BETWEEN    THEM.  283 

consummate  tact  and  management.  Both  were  distinguished 
for  grace  and  ease  of  manners,  for  happy  and  polished  ad- 
dress, and  for  influence  over  the  wills  and  affections  of  those 
who  came  within  the  circle  of  their  acquaintance  and  asso- 
ciations. Both  were  of  lithe,  sinewy,  and  slender  physical 
conformation  ;  uniting  strength  with  activity,  and  great  pow- 
ers of  endurance  with  a  happy  facility  of  labor.  Both  were 
men  of  the  warmest  affections ;  of  the  gentlest  and  most  con- 
ciliating manners  in  social  intercourse  when  they  wished  to 
please;  of  truth  and  loyalty,  and  steadfastness  in  friend- 
ship ;  bitter  and  defiant  in  their  enmities  ;  of  extraordinary 
directness  in  their  purposes ;  of  a  patient  and  indefatigable 
temper  in  following  out  their  ends,  or  waiting  for  their  ac- 
complishment. Neither  could  brook  a  rival  or  opposition  ; 
and  each  had  the  imperial  spirit  of  a  conqueror  not  to  be  sub- 
dued, and  the  pride  of  leadership  which  could  not  follow. 
They  were  Americans  both,  intensely  patriotic  and  national, 
loving  their  whole  country,  its  honor,  its  glory,  its  institu- 
tions, its  Union,  with  a  love  kindled  early  and  quenched  only 
in  death. 

They  both~spent  much  of  their  long  lives,  from  youth  to 
hoary  age,  in  the  public  service,  maintaining  to  the  last,  with 
only  the  modifications  which  age  necessarily  makes  upon  the 
mental  and  physical  constitution,  the  same  characteristics 
for  which  they  were  at  first  distinguished.  They  lived  lives 
of  storm,  excitement  and  warfare ;  each  in  point  of  real  au- 
thority equally  at  the  head  of  his  party ;  in  and  out  of  omce 
equally  acknowledged  leaders ;  and  they  died  each  full  of 


284  JACKSON    AND    CLAY. 

years  and  honors,  and  by  the  same  lingering  disease  ;  pro 
fessing  towards  the  close  of  life,  the  same  religion  ;  and 
leaving  upon  the  country,  at  the  death  of  each  prosperous 
and  peaceful,  a  saddened  sense  of  a  great  and  common 
calamity. 

These  distinguished  statesmen  owed  much  of  their  effeC' 
tive  greatness  to  circumstances,  and  especially  to  their  early 
settlement  in  a  new  country.  A  young  community,  unorgan- 
ized and  free,  furnishes  an  open,  unoccupied  field  for  energy 
and  intellect.  It  gives  them  a  fair  chance  and  an  even 
start.  The  community  is  impressible  to  the  former's  hand. 
The  intrigues  of  cliques,  the  artificial  arrangements  of  an 
old  society,  and  the  pre-occupation  of  predecessors  do  not 
obstruct  the  way.  The  people,  by  the  force  of  circumstan- 
ces, stand  in  natural  equality.  They  are  as  yet  undivided 
into  cliques  or  factions,  or  fixed  to  previous  relations  or  par- 
ties, or  bound  down  by  ideas  and  prejudices  to  old  men  or 
old  systems.  The  population  of  Tennessee  and  Kentucky 
in  those  days  was  a  border  people,  full  of  enterprise,  energy 
and  boldness ;  men  of  warm  hearts  and  generous  temper, 
free  alike  from  wealth  and  poverty ;  independent  in  spirit, 
while  dependent  on  each  other  for  the  reciprocal  courtesies 
and  benefits  of  neighborhood  ;  and  completely  homogeneous 
in  feeling  and  interest. 

Such  a  community  is  eminently  a  practical  people. 
Their  ideas  are  about  practical  affairs.  Their  business  is 
with  the  concrete.  They  have  no  time  for  refined  theories  or 
subtle  disputations.  Their  business  relates  to  the  present  and 


THE  BACKWOODS  LEADER.  285 

the  material.  Refined  speculation  comes  with  a  refined  and 
advanced  society.  What  they  have  to  do,  they  must  do  at 
once,  and  by  the  most  expeditious  and  most  effective  means. 
To  address  them  successfully,  one  must  address  their  robust 
common  sense,  and  their  unsophisticated  feelings.  Bracing 
themselves  up  against  difficulties  and  dangers,  and  forced 
to  rely  upon  themselves  for  all  things,  the  masculine  qual- 
ities of  heart  and  mind  were  early  and  strongly  developed ; 
and  accordingly  we  find  in  the  new  settlements,  the  bravest 
soldiery  which  the  war  called  into  the  field. 

There  was  much  to  do.  The  wilderness  was  to  be  im- 
proved into  a  country ;  and  a  policy  fixed  providing  for  the 
necessities  of  a  society  that  wanted  every  thing  which  gov- 
ernment bestows,  and  to  be  divested  of  whatever  governments 
repress. 

As  face  answereth  to  face  in  water,  so  must  the  popular 
favorite  answer  to  the  genius  and  character  of  the  people. 
Only  a  bold,  frank,  decisive  man  could  rise  to  power  in  such 
a  community.  He  must  shrink  from  no  danger  ;  he  must 
fear  no  responsibility  ;  he  must  wear  no  mask  ;  he  must  wait 
for  no  cue ;  he  must  be  able  to  appeal  to  the  strong  feelings 
and  the  manly  common-sense  of  the  people. 

Honesty  of  purpose,  earnestness  and  faithfulness,  and 
above  all,  a  boidness  approaching  recklessness,  were  the  quali- 
ties essential  for  leadership  among  such  a  people.  Trained  to 
grapple  closely  with  every  question,  to  apply  to  a  measure  the 
touchstone  of  its  practical  working,  to  look  into  the  nature, 
motives  and  feelings  of  men  as  they  were  presented  almost 


286  JACKSON    AND     CLAY. 

naked  to  the  eye,  and  to  see  the  springs  and  curious  mecha- 
nism of  the  human  heart  and  character,  these  great  men 
had  early  schooled  themselves  in  the  most  valuable  learning 
of  statesmanship,  and  mastered  a  knowledge,  which  all  the 
books  on  statecraft  and  all  the  teachings  of  colleges  could 
not  supply. 

The  elaborate  tricks  and  tinsel,  the  prettinesses  of  expres- 
sion, the  balanced  sentences  and  glittering  periods  of  oratory, 
much  less  the  artful  dodges  and  the  slippery  equivocations  of 
a  tricksy  politician,  wo.uld  find  but  a  sorry  audience,  before 
the  stern  countenances,  and  the  keen,  penetrating  eyes  of 
the  hunters,  assembled  around  the  rude  rostrum,  in  'coon 
caps  and  linsey-woolsey  garments,  leaning  on  their  rifles,  their 
sun-burnt  visages  bent  upon  the  face  of  the  speaker,  with  an 
expression  that  indicated  they  were  not  to  be  trifled  with. 
To  come  at  once  to  the  point,  to  seize  the  bull  by  the  horns, 
to  lead  out  boldly  and  roundly  their  propositions,  to  urge 
strong  arguments  in  nervous  language,  to  storm  the  enemy's 
batteries,  to  attack  him  in  his  strong  hold,  to  hurl  at  his 
head  the  merciless  sarcasm,  to  cover  him  with  ridicule,  to 
denounce  him  and  his  principles  in  terms  of  fiery  invective, 
to  ply  the  warm  appeal  to  the  passions  and  sensibilities ; — 
these  were  the  weapons  of  a  warfare  which  was  only  effec- 
tive, when  it  was  known  that  the  hand  was  ready  to  wield, 
with'  the  same  alacrity,  weapons  of  personal  combat. 

The  habit  of  mingling  freely  with  the  people,  brought 
the  personal  character  of  a  public  man  in  close  contact  and 
intimate  acquaintance  with  them ;  and,  in  this  way,  he  caught 


CLAY    AS    A    COMMANDER.  287 

the  spirit  of  the  people,  as  well  as  communicated  to  them 
his  own. 

Though  the  circumstances  of  the  two  great  rivals  were  so 
alike  at  the  outset,  their  paths  diverged  in  after  life.  The 
war  with  Great  Britain  and  her  Indian  allies,  furnished  the 
theatre  upon  which  both  of  them  first  became  introduced  to 
the  nation  ;  in  different  characters,  it  is  true.  The  genius  of 
each  was  eminently  military  and  executive.  Jackson  was  a 
statesman  in  the  camp ;  Clay  a  captain  in  the  senate.  Clay 
had  early  come  before  the  people  as  an  orator  and  politician ; 
and  it  was  natural  for  him  to  continue  to  labor  in  that  field 
when  his  country,  at  that  time  more  than  at  any  former  pe- 
riod, needed  his  services  in  the  public  councils.  It  is  known, 
however,  that  at  so  high  a  rate  did  Madison  appreciate 
his  talents  for  military  command,  that  he  was  about  to  ten- 
der him  the  appointment  of  commander  of  the  forces,  and 
was  only  withheld  from  the  proffer,  by  the  call  for  his  servi- 
ces at  the  head  of  the  war  party  in  Congress.  It  is  impos- 
sible to  know  the  result  of  such  an  appointment  upon  the 
public  interests,  or  upon  the  personal  fortunes  of  Mr.  Clay. 
But  it  were  a  falsifying  of  all  the  calculations  which  men 
may  make  of  the  future,  to  suppose  that  such  rare  abilities, 
and  such  unsurpassed  energies,  would  have  been  otherwise 
than  successfully  employed  upon  a  theatre  to  which  they 
were  seemingly  so  signally  adapted ;  and  it  needed  but  the 
prestige  of  the  camp  to  have  crowned  a  popularity  and 
rounded  out  a  fame,  before  which  competition  and  rivalry 
must  have  hung  their  diminished  heads.  But  this  was  fated 


288  JACKSON    AND    CLAY. 

not  to  be.  The  laurels  of  the  hero  were  not  to  be  blended 
in  the  fadeless  wreath  of  orator,  philanthropist,  statesman, 
jurist,  cabinet  minister  and  diplomatist.  Fortune  could 
scarcely  be  reproached  with  injustice  when,  lavishing  upon 
this  favorite  son  the  graces  and  accomplishments  which  lend 
a  charm  to  social  life,  and  all  the  qualifications  and  successes 
of  every  department  of  civil  service,  she  refused  to  add  the 
trophies  of  the  soldier.  Jackson's  spirit,  if  not  more  active, 
was  less  fitted  for  the  council-hall  than  the  battle-field.  His 
was  not  the  elaborate  eloquence  of  the  senate.  Swords,  not 
words,  were  his  arguments.  His  was  the  true  Demosthenic 
eloquence  of  action.  He  had  neither  the  temper  nor  the 
abilities  to  parley.  He  could  speak  tersely,  vigorously, 
movingly,  but  his  words  were  the  brief  words  of  command. 
Action  followed  speech,  as  thunder  the  lightning.  He  had 
no  patience  for  the  solemn  forms,  the  dull  routine,  the  prosy 
speech-making,  the  timid  platitudes,  or  the  elaborate  ratio- 
cinations of  legislative  debate.  Sudden  and  quick  in  opin- 
ion as  in  quarrel,  heart,  soul  and  mind  all  mingled  in  his 
conclusions,  and  the  energy  that  conceived  a  purpose,  started 
it  into  overt  act.  With  him,  to  think  and  to  do  were  not  so 
much  two  things  as  one.  His  eager  and  impatient  soul 
would  have  fevered  over  a  debate,  on  a  proposition  to  declare 
war,  or  to  provide  means  for  prosecuting  it,  as  the  knight, 
Ivanhoe,  on  his  sick  bed  in  the  castle  of  Front  de  Boeuf, 
writhed  in  helpless  impatience,  when  he  heard  the  clangor 
of  the  warriors  storming  the  battlements  for  his  deliverance. 
Like  Job's  war-horse,  he  scented  the  battle  fron>  afar,  and. 


JACKSON    AS    A    CAPTAIN.  289 

at  the  sound  of  the  trumpets,  cried  ha  !  ha  !  The  first  man 
in  resolution  and  daring  in  the  community  in  which  he  lived, 
he  did  not  so  much  rise  to  the  command  of  the  warlike 
troops,  that  flocked  to  the  first  standard  unfurled  in  the  young 
settlements,  as  the  command  naturally  came  to  him  ;  so,  by 
native  allegiance  to  greatness,  the  weak  in  distress  and  ter- 
ror turn,  through  instinct,  for  safety  to  the  strong.  Putting 
himself  at  the  head  of  his  raw  recruits,  he  moved  upon  the 
Indian  camps  and  conquered,  as  easily  as  he  found  the 
enemy.  His  work  was  as  thorough  as  swift.  He  did  no- 
thing by  halves.  A  war  with  him  was  nearly  an  extermi- 
nation. It  was  always  a  complete  destruction  of  the  power 
of  the  foe.  He  took  no  security  from  an  enemy  except  his 
prostration.  He  closed  the  war  at  New  Orleans  by  one  of 
the  most  signal  victories,  every  thing  considered,  upon  record. 
But  to  do  this,  he  assumed  powers  and  responsibilities  from 
which  Nelson  might  have  shrunk.  But  the  event  sanctified 
the  means,  if  those  were  indeed  equivocal.  Arbuthnot  and 
Ambrister  were  hung  in  Florida,  notwithstanding  the  verdict 
of  a  court-martial ;  and  the  Spanish  flag  was  no  protection 
to  those,  who,  under  it,  concocted  designs  against  his  country. 
His  military  career  was  short  but  brilliant.  Without  any 
military  training  or  education,  he  discovered  talents  of  the 
first  order  for  arms,  and  brought  raw  militiamen  to  the  strict 
subordination  of  the  regular  service.  He  was  a  rigid  disci- 
plinarian. He  tolerated  no  license  or  disobedience  in  the 
camp.  He  could  sit  beside  a  sick  soldier  all  night,  and 


18 


290  JACKSON    AND     CLAY. 

share  his  last  crust  with  him,  as  with  a  brother ;  and  shoot 
him  the  day  after  for  sleeping  on  his  post. 

Jackson  was  an  enthusiast ;  not  a  flaming  zealot,  but  one 
of  the  Ironsides.  He  was  built  of  the  Cromwell  stuff,  with- 
out Cromwell's  religious  fanaticism.  He  had  but  little  to- 
leration for  human  weaknesses.  He  was  incredulous  of  im- 
possibilities. He  was  no  patient  hearer  of  excuses.  Before 
his  irrepressible  energy  difficulties  had  vanished,  and  he 
could  not  see  why  it  was  not  so  with  others.  He  could  not 
see  why  the  Seminoles  could  not  be  driven  out  of  Florida 
into  the  sea,  as  easily  as  he  drove  the  Creeks  into  the  Coosa, 
The  spirit  of  a  conqueror  was  his  in  a  double  measure. 
Upon  the  work  in  hand  he  concentrated  all  his  powers, 
girded  up  his  loins,  strained  every  muscle,  and  put  forth 
every  energy  of  mind  and  soul  and  strength.  He  had  no 
thought  of  failure.  The  world  around  was  a  blank  to  him 
except  as  the  theatre  on  which  he  acted,  and  meat  and  drink, 
and  air  and  light  were  only  the  instruments  for  success. 
Nothing  was  too  costly  an  expenditure* ;  no  sacrifice  was  too 
great  to  attain  it.  With  him,  thus  inspired,  there  was  no 
such  word  as  fail.  Accordingly,  there  was  no  such  thing  as 
failure  in  his  history.  The  man  who,  rising  from  a  sick  bed 
with  a  broken  arm  in  a  sling,  could  place  himself  before  a 
company  of  insurgent  soldiers  leaving  the  camp  for  home, 
and,  holding  a  pistol  in  the  bridle-hand,  threaten  to  shoot 
down  the  first  man  that  marched  on,  had  nothing  to  learn  of 
human  audacity.  Men  of  nerve  quailed  before  him,  as  cowards 
quail  before  men  of  nerve.  When  the  storms  of  wrath  passed 


291 

over  his  fiery  soul,  there  was  something  as  terrible  in  his 
voice  and  mien,  as  in  the  roused  anger  of  the  lion.  The 
calm  resolution  of  his  placid  movements,  in  its  still  and  col- 
lected strength,  conveyed  an  idea  of  power  in  repose,  like 
the  sea,  broad,  unfathomable,  majestic,  awaiting  but  the 
storm  to  waken  its  tides,  and  lash  its  waves  into  the 
sublime  energy,  that  hurls  on  high  and  against  the  shore 
the  armaments  upon  its  bosom, 

He  was  ever  the  same.  He  did  not  rise  to  passion  to 
fall  back  into  lassitude.  The  same  even  port  of  firm,  calm, 
dignified  composure  marked  his  bearing,  when  the  gusts  of 
passion  did  not  disturb  his  serenity.  His  air  of  command 
was  not  broken  by  any  familiarity.  Serious  and  earnest  in 
small  things  and  great,  there  was  no  time  when  imper- 
tinence could  break  in  upon  his  dignity,  or  feel  itself  tolerat- 
ed by  his  condescension.  Whoever  looked  upon  him,  saw 
one  whom  it  was  better  to  have  as  a  friend,  and  whom 
it  was  dangerous  to  have  for  an  enemy.  He  required  of 
his  friends  an  undeviating  fidelity  ;  he  freely  gave  what  he 
exacted.  He  could  excuse  or  was  blind  to  every  thing  in  a 
friend  except  disloyalty  to  friendship  ;  that  with  him  was 
the  unpardonable  sin. 

We  consider  Jackson  and  Clay  as  incontestably  the 
greatest  men  of  their  respective  parties.  In  this  estimate, 
we  judge  of  men  as  we  judge  of  a  machine,  by  what  it  can 
accomplish.  That  there  were  men  of  greater  intellectual 
calibre  than  either,  we  are  willing  to  concede ;  that  in  some 
departments  of  human  activity,  these  would  have  far  out- 


292  JACKSON    AND    CLAY. 

shone  the  two  leaders — for  instance,  as  professors  of  col- 
leges, or  in  literature — we  readily  allow  ;  but  in  the  practical 
business  of  statesmanship,  or  in  any  other  business  requiring 
the  same  sort  of  abilities — for  whatever  things  energy, 
perseverance  and  courage  can  accomplish,  they  were  the 
most  efficient  men  of  their  time.  Those  who  differ  with  us 
in  the  result,  most  probably  differ  in  the  premises.  We 
regard  the  will  as  the  man ;  as  not  so  much  giving  indivi- 
duality as  being  it.  The  strong  will,  therefore,  is  the  strong 
man.  The  intellect  is  but  the  servant  of  the  will,  not  con- 
trolling it  more  than  any  other  servant  may  its  master,  but 
controlled  by  it ;  or,  at  most,  is  but  the  light  by  which  the 
will  may  work ;  and  is  as  inferior  to  it  in  true  dignity,  as 
the  lamp  is  inferior  to  the  man  that  reads  or  walks  by  its 
rays. 

What  better  evidence  have  we  of  Napoleon's  greatness, 
than  that,  in  an  age  of  great  men,  his  pre-eminent  greatness 
was  unchallenged  ;  and  that,  among  the  strifes  of  rivalry, 
the  point  of  precedence  struggled  for  was  below  him  ? 

Who,  in  the  Democratic  party,  could  have  carried  away 
from  Jackson,  in  a  political  contest,  ten  thousand  votes  ? 
Who,  in  his  time,  could  have  made  a  respectable  schism  in 
the  Democratic  party  ?  Much  more,  who  would  have  ven- 
tured to  lead  a  policy  in  the  House  or  the  Senate,  before  it 
had  the  Executive  imprimatur  ?  And  at  what  period  of  the 
Whig  struggle,  would  not  Clay's  defection  have  been  equiva- 
lent to  striking  the  flag  ? 

It  is  a  mistake  to  suppose   that  General  Jackson  owed 


CAUSE  OF  JACKSON'S  POPULARITY.  293 

his  popularity  to  his  military  services.  Unquestionably,  his 
military  exploits  were  an  element  of  that  popularity.  It 
could  scarcely  be  otherwise  among  so  warlike  a  people ; 
especially  with  the  soldiers  he  led  to  battle,  and  those  whom 
they  could  influence,  was  this  peculiarly  true ;  and  it  is  also 
true  that,  in  the  states  in  which  his  battles  were  fought,  the 
mere  circumstance  of  his  fighting  them  made  him  a  popular 
favorite.  But  mere  admiration  of  a  military  chieftain  as 
such,  and  mere  gratitude  for  military  services,  could  not  have 
so  impressed  the  heart  or  the  imagination  of  the  nation. 
We  see  an  illustration  of  this  truth  in  the  case  of  the  con- 
queror of  Mexico,  the  first  of  living  generals,  at  once  in  the 
length  of  his  career,  and  the  number,  importance,  and 
brilliancy  of  his  victories.  The  nation,  although  it  appreci- 
ates and  acknowledges  his  services,  and  feels  proud  of  him, 
yet  admires  him  coldly  and  at  a  distance ;  admires  him  as 
lie  admires  the  swords  presented  to  him  by  legislatures,  or 
as  they  admire  the  Paixhan  guns  he  fired  at  the  castle  of 
San  Juan.  There  is  no  personality  in  their  idea  of  him  ; 
they  seem  to  regard  him  but  as  a  curious  and  effective 
military  machine. 

The  deeds  of  the  warrior  were  effective  in  Jackson's 
popularity,  in  drawing  attention  to,  and  in  unfolding  the 
character  of  the  man ;  and  it  was  that  character,  a  know- 
ledge of  which  was  so  evolved,  that  was  popular. 

We  have  already  indicated  in  what  this  popularity  mainly 
consisted  ;  in  what  particular  he  stood  forth  pictorially,  so 
to  speak,  before  the  people.  He  was  marked  out  and  dis- 


294  JACKSON    AND     CLAY. 

tinguished  from  the  mass  of  mankind  as  a  substantive, 
original,  peculiar  character,  mainly  distinctive  in  the  sublime 
attribute  of  a  powerful  will,  of  a  fervid  enthusiasm  ;  as  the 
impersonation  of  energy  and  power;  as  the  genius  of  the 
practical ;  and  his  character,  otherwise  severe  and  repellant, 
was  softened  and  endeared  to  the  people  by  warm  passions 
and  affections,  and  a  genuine  love  of  his  race  and  his 
country. 

The  HEROIC  ELEMENT  impressed  him  strongly  upon  the 
mind  of  the  nation. 

It  is  of  the  nature  of  man  to  side  with  the  strong.  The 
influences  which  draw  men  are  not  the  gentler  or  more  lov- 
ing qualities.  Whoever  has  observed  much  of  the  conduct 
of  the  masses,  knows  that  the  hero  of  the  crowd  is  a  repre- 
sentative of  the  sterner  qualities,  rather  than  of  the  softer 
and  more  amiable.  A  daring  robber  on  the  gibbet  excites 
more  of  vulgar  sympathy  than  a  suffering  martyr  at  the 
stake.  The  bully  of  a  muster-field  always  takes  the  shouts 
and  attracts  the  homage  even  of  those  of  the  rabble,  who 
are  only  spectators,  from  the  man  whom  he  has  imposed 
upon  or  insulted,  without  provocation  or  mercy.  The 
crowd  must  look  up  to  a  man  before  they  will  applaud  him, 
much  more  before  they  will  be  governed  by  him  ;  and  they 
will  look  up  only  to  those  whom  they  fear,  or,  at  least,  whose 
qualities  they  fear.  They  only  regard  with  reverence  men 
who  possess  those  properties  which  conquer  or  inspire  men 
with  awe.  Courage  is  one  of  the  most  vulgar  of  virtues,  yet 
the  Romans  prized  it  so  highly  that  they  gave  it  the  name  of 


THE  GRAND  AND  THE  HEROIC.  295 

virtue,  as  if  it  comprehended  all  virtue ;  and  even  now,  in 
more  cultivated  times,  and  in  the  prevalence  of  gentler 
manners,  it  is  that  quality  which  is  most  respected  among 
men.  There  is  a  mesmerism  of  will  which  works  more 
powerfully  upon  men  than  virtue  or  intellect ;  a  fascination 
of  the  eye  which  charms  like  the  serpent. 

Love  wins.  Power  commands.  But  love  is  inspired  for 
the  most  part  only  by  personal  relation,  or  in  close  prox- 
imity to  the  object  of  it.  The  man  of  a  nation  is  but  an 
Ideal ;  and  we  do  not  love  the  ideal.  We  can  admire,  we 
can  reverence,  we  may  have  the  image  stamped  upon  our 
imaginations,  and  thus  grow  familiar  with  it.  It  may  thus 
excite  our  enthusiasm.  We  thus  become  acquainted,  so  to 
speak,  with  great  men ;  and  thus  honor,  support,  uphold 
them.  But  the  merely  amiable  and  quiet  virtues  will  not 
impress  them  upon  us.  They  must  be  painted  in  some 
stronger  hues  than  water -colors.  The  vermilion  tints  and 
the  great  lines  of  the  GRAND  and  the  HEROIC  are  necessary 
to  imprint  the  imagination  with  their  characters.  Men,  to 
be  popular,  must  be  known  ;  and  a  character  like  Jackson's 
could  not  but  be  known  and  felt. 

We  doubt  if  Milton's  Satan  would  not  be  a  more  popular 
man,  if  he  took  the  human  form,  than  Fenelon;  and,  at 
least,  in  France,  would  not  carry  the  suffrages  of  the  masses 
in  a  popular  election. 

Take  the  case  of  Napoleon  Bonaparte.  He  is  the  ideal 
of  energy — energy  incarnate.  Did  any  name  ever  so  impress 
the  human  imagination  ?  Was  human  sympathy  ever  so 


296  JACKSON    AND    CLAY. 

drawn  forth  before  as  for  him,  when  in  his  island-prison  ? 
More  sympathy  has  been  expended  upon  him  than  upon  the 
whole  martyrology.  Did  any  man  ever  leave  so  vivid  a  sense 
of  his  being  and  personality  upon  the  mind  of  the  world  ? 
Why,  his  very  name,  the  faintest  shadow  and  memento  of 
himself,  turned  French  politics  inside  out,  and  established 
its  representative  as  an  institution  of  France.  The  Sultan's 
cimeter  in  the  Eastern  story,  the  shadow  of  which,  at 
twenty  paces,  cut  off  an  enemy's  head,  was  nothing  to  the 
shade  of  the  great  Emperor,  that,  at  a  distance  of  a  genera- 
tion, cut  down  a  kingdom,  a  line  of  kings,  and  a  republic, 
and  blazed  out  the  way  to  a  new  empire  and  a  new 
dynasty. 

What  a  hold  the  great  Marlborough  had  upon  the  admi- 
ration of  the  world  in  his  day  is  well  known ;  and  yet,  if  the 
half  of  what  Thackeray  says  of  him  is  true,  Falstaff  might 
have  set  to  him  as  a  model  and  prodigy  of  decency,  honor, 
and  virtue. 

We  believe  General  Jackson  to  have  been  much  misun- 
derstood. He  was  neither  a  god  nor  a  devil.  He  was  wor- 
thy neither  of  adoration  nor  of  detestation.  Like  every  other 
man  of  strong  and  marked  character  and  of  positive  forces, 
he  had  the  centrifugal  and  the  centripetal  tendencies  in  a 
proportionate  degree.  He  drew  and  he  repelled'  according 
as  the  object  was  of  like  or  contrary  character,  or  as  he  con- 
ciliated or  opposed  the  interests,  purposes,  or  sentiments  of 
others.  It  is  the  law  of  a  soul  highly  charged  with  the  elec- 
tricity of  passion  and  sensibility,  to  work  in  this  manner. 


JACKSON'S  PRIVATE  CHARACTER.  297 

Combativeness  excites  combativeness  in  others ;  pride, 
pride  ;  as  deep  calls  out  to  deep.  No  man  had  more  devoted 
friends,  and  no  man  had  more  bitter  enemies.  He  was  a 
good  hater.  Dr.  Johnson  could  not  have  had  a  man  more  to 
his  mind  in  this  respect ;  and  he  had  rather  conquer  one 
enemy  than  conciliate  two.  He  could  forgive  an  enemy,  but 
the  enemy  must  first  surrender  at  discretion.  Like  Tecum- 
seh,  he  gave  no  quarter  while  the  battle  was  raging ;  like 
Tecurnseh,  he  never  asked  it';  unfortunately  for  his  enemies, 
he  never  needed  it.  But  he  never  forgave  a  friend.  He  be- 
came reconciled  to  Bentonj  who  had  fought  with  him  for 
life.  He  never  could  have  become  reconciled  to  Calhoun, 
whom  he  supposed,  justly  or  unjustly,  to  have  betrayed  his 
friendship,  or  played  double  with  him. 

We  have  taken  pains  to  learn  the  private  character — the 
character  as  it  was  in  dishabille — not  draped  up  for  the 
world  to  look  at — of  the  man  of  the  Hermitage.  It  was  dif- 
ferent from  any  thing  many  suppose.  As  a  neighbor,  Jack- 
son was  the  soul  of  kindness  and  generosity.  To  the  poor, 
he  was  as  a  father ;  to  all  honest  to  a  punctilio,  and,  in  mo- 
ney matters^as  just  and  honorable  as  Franklin.  Simple  and 
frugal  in  his  tastes  and  habits,  he  was  unpretending  and  re- 
publican enough  for  a  Swiss  farmer ;  and  yet  neither  ava- 
ricious nor  prodigal  of  money.  He  neither  wasted  nor  hoard- 
ed, was  neither  exacting  nor  negligent;  was  a  discreet 
manager,  without  undue  anxiety  or  driving  energy.  In  his 
domestic  relations,  he  was  a  model.  He  was  a  kind  master, 
governing  his  slaves  more  as  a  Scotch  chieftain  his  clan,  or 
13* 


298  JACKSON    AND    CLAY. 

a  Hebrew  patriarch  his  tribe,  than  as  a  driver,  or  as  a 
planter  holding  lands  and  negroes,  mules  and  ploughs  as  so 
much  stock  in  trade,  of  value  only  as  they  were  profitable. 
And  in  that  nearer  and  closer  tie  of  domestic  life,  some- 
thing of  romance,  of  a  proud  and  knightly  obeisance  and 
homage,  and  devoted  love,  shed  its  unprosaic  hues  over»a 
mind,  whose  characters  were  written  in  the  strongest  and 
most  masculine  prose  of  the  sternly  practical.     More  might 
be  said  in  illustration  of  this  observation,  but  more  is  unne- 
cessary.    Of  kindred  fidelity  was  his  personal  friendship. 
He  could  not  do  enough  for  his  friends.     He  made  their  in- 
terests his  own.     He  took  charge  of  their  fortunes.     He 
made  their  cause  his  cause,  and  their  enemies  his   enemies. 
Truly  did  he  say,  in  his  last  letter  to  Blair,  that  he  had 
"never  deserted  a  friend  from  policy;  "  and  bitter  was  his 
scorn  of  his  politic  successor's  desertion  of  the  old  thunderer 
of  "  The  Globe."   As  sincerely  did  he  make  this  protestation 
as  he  breathed  the  prayer  that  Blair  "  might  triumph  over 
all  his  enemies."     He  seemed  to  delight  in  promoting  those 
to  high  offices,  whom  the  opposite  party  despised,  and  was 
not  deterred  by  the  distrust  or  dislike  of  many  of  the  most 
distinguished  members  of  his  own.     But,  it  must  be  con- 
fessed, all  this  friendship  was,  perhaps  unconsciously,  the 
friendship  of  patronage.     The  spirit  of  his  kindness  was  the 
spirit  of  a  leader,  or,  at  least,  an  air  of  imperial  protection 
tinctured  it.     We  are  not  aware  that  any  personal  friend- 
ship of  his  survived  opposition  to  his  measures  or  his  ticket ; 
and  how  many  ceased  with  political  agreement ! 


299 

It  were  a  bold  thing  to  say  that  Jackson  was  the  equal 
of  Clay  in  many  things.  In  many  respects  he  was  not. 
Jackson  had  no  pretensions  to  oratory.  His  influence  over 
men  was  as  great,  perhaps  even  greater,  though  this  is  saying 
a  great  deal.  He  was  not  a  ready  writer.  He  was  scarcely 
able  to  write  correct  English  on  the  commonest  topics,  as  his 
letters  to  Lewis  and  to  Blair  testify.  The  man  who  could 
write  the  letter  of  which  the  fac  simile  is  given  in  the  Dem- 
ocratic Review,  had  a  good  deal  to  learn  of  the  art  of 
writing,  and  was  certainly  independent  of  his  schoolmaster 
for  his  fame.  He  had  no  great  deal  of  political  information, 
and  knew  little  of  ancient  or  modern  history.  We  apprehend 
he  never  was  much  of  a  student,  and  had  no  great  partiality 
for  letters.  "What  he  saw  at  all,  he  saw  as  clearly  as  any 
man,  but  he  did  not  see  far,  nor  was  his  vision  wide  in  its 
sweep.  He  had  remarkable  sagacity,  but  it  was  a  sagacity 
which  related  to  the  practical  and  the  present.  Men  were 
his  books,  and  he  studied  them  closely  and  understood  them 
thoroughly.  He  knew  as  well  as  any  one  what  a  man  was 
good  for,  and  to  what  use  he  could  be  put.  If  he  could  not 
do  a  thing  hhnself,  he  knew,  the  next  best  thing,  where  to 
go  to  get  it  done,  and  when  it  was  well  done.  Accordingly, 
he  had  able  ministers,  and  the  most  powerful  press  that  evor 
supported  an  administration.  The  only  press  that  ever 
completely  reflected  the  tone  and  character  of  an  Executive, 
was  "  The  Grlobe."  It  was  a  whole  troop  of  cavalry  and 
a  park  of  flying  artillery  besides. 

Nor  did  Jackson  only  know  men  in  detail.     He  knew 


30C  JACKSON    AND    CLAY. 

them  in  gross.  He  thoroughly  understood  the  genius  of 
the  American  people,  and  knew  what  they  desired  and  what 
they  would  stand. 

His  faculties  did  not  sweep  a  large  circle,  but  they  worked 
like  a  steam-engine  within  that  circle. 

He  lacked  versatility  ;  but  this  was  so  far  from  being  a 
defect,  that  we  doubt  if  it  were  not  the  secret  of  his  wonder- 
ful success.  It  prevented  a  diversion  of  his  powers  and 
efforts,  and  concentrated  them,  as  by  a  lens,  upon  those 
objects,  which  this  singleness  of  aim  enabled  him  to 
effect. 

If  we  measure  power  by  success,  the  palm  must  be 
awarded  to  Jackson.  If  we  suppose  politics  to  be  a  game 
of  skill  played  for  aggrandizement  by  politicians,  the  same 
award  must  be  made.  Jackson  unquestionably  was  the 
ablest  strategist.  The  letter  to  Monroe  against  pro- 
scription, if  we  suppose  it  written  by  Gen.  Jackson,  with 
the  object  of  promoting  his  election  to  the  Presidency,  was 
a  stroke  of  policy  not  unworthy  of  Talleyrand.  The  Fede- 
ralists, long  proscribed,  and  naturally  desirous  of  again 
being  admitted  to  consideration  and  office,  were  as  yet  un- 
appropriated. They  had  abandoned  their  old  organization, 
and  had  not  enrolled  themselves  under  any  other  banner.  It 
was  not  difficult  to  see  where  gratitude  and  a  sense  of 
security  and  interest  would  carry  them. 

The  election  of  Adams,  by  the  House  of  Kepresenta- 
tives,  was  turned  to  account,  with  all  its  incidents  and  sur- 
roundings, with  admirable  effect,  by  General  Jackson.  No 


CLAY'S  GREAT  BLUNDER.  301 

one  now  believes  the  story  of  bargain,  intrigue  and  manage- 
ment told  upon  Adams  and  Clay  ;  but  General  Jackson 
believed  it,  and,  what  is  more,  made  the  country  believe  it 
in  1825.  Adams'  was  an  unpopular  man,  of  an  unpopular 
section  of  the  country.  Crawford's  friends  were  as  little 
pleased  as  Jackson's  with  the  course  affairs  took.  The  war- 
fare upon  Adams  was  hailed  by  them  with  joy,  and  they  be- 
came parties  to  an  opposition,  of  which,  it  was  easy  to  see, 
Jackson  was  to  be  the  beneficiary. 

Clay's  ambition  or  incaution  betrayed  him  into  the  serious, 
and,  as  it  turned  out,  so  far  as  concerns  the  presidency,  the 
fatal  error  of  accepting  office,  the  first  office,  under  the  ad- 
ministration which  he  called  into  power.  It  was,  in  all  politic 
respects,  a  most  inexcusable  blunder.  The  office  added 
nothing  to  his  fame.  It  added  nothing  to  his  chances  for  the 
presidency.  He  was,  on  the  contrary,  to  share  the  odium  of 
an  administration,  at  whose  head  was  a  very  obstinate  man, 
of  impracticable  temper,  coming,  by  a  sort  of  bastard  pro- 
cess, into  office  ;  bearing  a  name  which  was  the  synonyme  of 
political  heterodoxy  ;  and  whose  administration  was  fated  to 
run  a  gauntlet,  from  the  start  to  the  close,  through  a  long 
lane  of  clubs,  wielded  by  the  Forsythes,  McDuffies,  Ran- 
dolphs, and  almost  the  whole  talent  of  the  South.  It  was 
bad  enough  to  vote  for  such  a  man.  But  Clay  might  have 
recovered  from  that.  But  to  vote  for  him,  and  then  take 
office  under  him,  was  suicide.  A  mere  politician  would  have 
played  the  game  quite  differently.  The  Crawford  vote  was 
the  vote  to  conciliate ;  and  Crawford,  in  all  human  pro- 


302  JACKSON    AND    CLAY. 

bability,  would  not  live  to  be  a  candidate  at  the  next  election. 
One  vote  for  him,  would  not  have  altered  the  result ;  while 
had  Adams  or  Jackson  been  elected,  Clay  would  have 
retained  his  chances  for  the  presidency,  and  been  uncom- 
mitted, with  the  advantage  of  the  strength  he  had  conciliated. 
But,  instead  of  this,  he  placed  himself  voluntarily  in  the 
minority,  to  bear  the  brunt  of  the  assault  of  a  majority  that 
knew  no  mercy,  and  would  give  no  quarter.  When  Adams 
was  elected,  opposition  to  him  became  the  rallying  cry  of  all 
the  aspirants ;  and  those,  who  were  rivals  before,  now  be- 
came confederates.  Clay  was,  in  all  respects,  too  prominent 
as  a  man,  as  one  of  the  actors  in  installing  the  administra- 
tion, and  as  a  member  of  it,  to  escape  assault ;  and  it  turned 
out  that,  without  the  powers  or  honors  of  President,  he  had 
to  endure  the  assaults  and  annoyances  of  presidential  op- 
position. 

Those  assaults  were  not  slow  in  coming.  The  public 
mind  had  laid  fallow  for  some  years,  and  was  prepared  for  a 
bountiful  crop  of  political  agitation.  Jackson  raised  the  war- 
cry,  and  the  hills  and  valleys,  all  over  the  land,  echoed  back 
the  shout.  A  lava-tide  of  obloquy  poured  in  a  fiery  flood 
over  Clay.  It  seemed  to  take  him  by  surprise.  The 
idea  that  his  voting  for  Adams,  and  then  occupying  the 
first  office  in  his  gift,  seconded  by  the  supports  which  the 
hypothesis  of  "bargain"  found,  or  which  were  made  for  it, 
should  originate  such  a  charge,  seems  never  to  have  entered 
his  imagination.  And  when  it  came,  he  had  the  weakness  to 


EFFECT  OF  ADAMS'S  ELECTION.  303 

attempt  to  strangle  it  by  personal  intimidation,  or  to  avenge 
it  by  violence. 

The  election  of  Adams,  under  such  circumstances,  was 
the  making  of  Jackson.  It  filled  up  his  popularity.  It 
completely  nationalized  it.  The  State-Rights  Party,  to 
whom  the  name  and  lineage  of  Adams  were  enough  for  op- 
position, turned,  at  once,  to  the  man  who  could  best  defeat 
him,  and  saw,  at  a  glance,  who  that  man  was  ;  and  the  popu- 
lar sympathy  was  quickly  aroused  in  behalf  of  the  honest 
old  soldier  circumvented  by  two  cunning  politicians. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Clay's  Party  Tactics— Adams's  Administration— Jackson's  and  Clay's  Mutual 
Hatred— Charge  against  Clay— Jackson  as  President— Clay  in  the  Senate— The 
War  of  the  Giants— The  "  Spoils"  Doctrine— The  Proclamation  and  Force  Bill- 
John  Eandolph — His  Character — J&ckson's  Influence. 

CLAY  committed  three  capital  errors  as  a  mere  tactician. 
He  should  not  have  become  a  candidate  for  the  presidency. 
He  was  young  enough  to  wait.  His  talents  and  his  growing 
popularity  had  placed  him  "  in  the  line  of  safe  precedents." 
The  presidency  was  coming  fast  enough  to  him.  He  stood 
no  chance  of  election  then,  and  a  defeat  nearly  always 
weakens  a  candidate.  He  should  not  have  allied  himself  to 
the  New  England  influence  ;  an  influence  never  strong,  then 
unpopular,  and  from  which  power  was  continually  receding. 
He  should  not,  above  all,  have  taken  office  under  Adams, 
We  speak  of  these  things  as  mere  matters  of  policy,  leaving 
out  of  consideration  the  higher  questions  of  right  and  prin- 
ciple ;  though,  as  to  two  of  these  errors,  there  was  no  prin- 
ciple involved,  which  required  a  sacrifice  of  self-interest ;  we 
mean  his  candidacy  and  his  acceptance  of  the  premiership. 


CLAY'S  TACTICS.  305 

He  had  committed  earlier  a  serious  blunder,  considered 
in  the  same  narrow  and  selfish  light.  He  had  broken  a  lance 
with  the  Virginia  politicians,  and  run  a  tilt  at  Monroe, 
on  the  question  of  Internal  Improvements,  involving  a  con- 
struction of  the  Constitution.  So  prominent  had  he  stood 
in  the  ranks  of  the  Republican  party,  by  his  services  in  Con- 
gress, in  behalf  of  the  war,  and  his  agency  in  the  treaty  of 
Ghent,  that  the  Virginia  influence,  still  strong,  if  not  longer 
exerted  in  behalf  of  one  of  her  own  citizens,  (and  it  could 
not  be  expected  that  the  Virginia  market  was  to  supply  all 
the  demands  for  Presidents,)  might  naturally  be  expected 
to  go  to  one  of  her  own  sons.  But  Clay  assailed,  in  no 
gentle  spirit,  the  jealous  character  of  a  Commonwealth  de- 
clining from  the  high  position  of  her  ancient  influence,  and 
the  more  sensitive,  in  her  decline,  of  disrespect  to  her  pre- 
tensions and  authority.  The  Virginia  doctrines,  too,  were 
progressive.  What  was  orthodoxy  in  1798  and  1816,  was 
something  short  of  it  in  1825. 

And  Clay's  opinions  in  regard  to  this  measure  and  its 
principle,  enabled  the  advocates  of  the  Virginia  doctrines 
to  rally  the  Republican  or  State-Rights  party  against  him ; 
while  the  bold  and  imperious  bearing  of  the  great  commoner, 
in  the  flush-tide  of  an  ambition,  which  knew,  at  that  time, 
better  how  to  command  than  to  conciliate,  excited  the  jea- 
lousy of  the  colleagues  and  associates,  who  had,  for  so  many 
years,  exerted  so  controlling  an  influence  on  public  affairs. 

In  the  conduct  of  the  canvass  of  1827-28,  Mr.  Clay  did 
not  show  any  marked  ability,  as  a  manager.  He  made  many 


306  JACKSON    AND    CLAY. 

speeches,  and  they  were  able  and  eloquent.  But  they  were 
dinner  speeches,  addressed  to  but  few,  and  those  friends, 
and  read  only  by  few. 

The  course  of  Jackson  was  different.  He  said  but  little, 
but  that  little  was  to  the  point.  The  rough,  unlettered 
honesty  and  vigor  of  his  criminations  were  more  effective 
than  the  polished  sarcasm,  the  lofty  declamation,  and  the 
elaborate  reasonings  of  his  antagonist.  The  policy  of  the 
Adams  administration,  calm,  prudent,  pacific  and  thoroughly 
conscientious  and  conservative,  was  not  the  policy  to  win 
favor  and  enlist  support.  It  might  have  retained  a  popular- 
ity already  won ;  but  it  was  necessary,  in  order  to  sustain 
the  administration,  to  stop  the  progress  of  opposing  influ- 
ences, determined  to  condemn  and  not  to  be  appeased  ;  and 
to  throw  in  new  elements,  which  might  attract  new  recruits. 
A  bold  and  spirited  policy,  with  new  ideas  and  large  aims, 
was  required,  to  draw  off  opposition,  and  to  create  fresh  is- 
sues, upon  which  the  administration  and  its  enemies  could 
join,  with  advantage  to  the  former.  The  fiery  spirit  of  Jack- 
sonism  could  only  have  been  fought  with  fire.  The  public 
mind  craved  excitement.  One  of  those  periodical  epidemics 
had  come  over  the  country,  before  which  a  tame  conserva- 
tism is  driven  like  chaff.  It  is  probable  that  nothing  could 
have  saved  the  Adams  administration.  It  is  certain  that 
the  healthy  process  of  keeping  the  body  politic  on  a  quie 
regimen,  and  letting  it  grow,  was  not  the  prescription  that 
suited  a  people  thirsty  for  excitement  and  fevering  for  action. 
But  the  administration  was  fixed  to  a  policy,  which  was  to 


THEIR  MUTUAL  HATRED.  307 

let  the  ship  float,  and  keep  the  crew  scrubbing  the  deck  and 
scouring  the  guns.  The  opposition  was  fixed  to  none. 
There  were  many  parties  and  sects  opposed  to  Adams  and 
his  principles  or  practices  ;  and  all  these  were  for  Jackson. 
A  very  various  opposition  was  melted  down  into  a  very 
vague  Jacksonism.  It  carried  every  thing  before  it,  as  com- 
binations usually  do ;  and  the  star  that  never  paled  after- 
wards, shone  out,  the  first  and  brightest  in  the  political 
firmament,  and  shed  disastrous  twilight  on  Clay  and  his 
fortunes. 

If  these  great  rivals  agreed  in  nothing  else,  they  agreed 
in  hating  each  other  with  uncommon  fervor.  They  had  early 
come  in  collision.  Clay  had  attacked  Jackson,  in  language 
studiously  guarded,  but  still,  in  effect,  strongly  reprehensive. 
His  speech  on  the  Pensacola  business  was  marked  by  great 
vigor,  and  more  than  characteristic  eloquence ;  and,  doubt- 
less, in  the  frank  habit  its  author  had  of  saying  what  he 
thought  and  felt  without  mincing  words,  he  had  said  things 
of  Gen.  Jackson's  conduct,  which,  repeated  with  or  without 
the  usual  exaggeration,  were  not  particularly  agreeable  to 
his  eager  and  passionate  nature.  But  this  might  have  been 
forgiven.  It  is  certain  that  it  was  glossed  over.  The  par- 
ties met  and  civilities  were  interchanged.  When,  however, 
the  affiliation  of  Clay  and  Adams  was  consummated,  a  spirit 
of  bitter,  uncompromising,  life-long  enmity  was  aroused. 
Its  course  and  its  consequences  we  have  partially  attempted 
to  sketch. 

Clay  had  a  great  deal  to  forgive.     Probably,  his  mag- 


308  JACKSON    AND    CLAY. 

nanimous  and  generous  temper  enabled  him  to  forgive  as 
much  as  any  man.  He  had  use  for  all  his  energies  in  this 
department  of  Christian  virtue.  If  any  man  could  ever  be 
justified  in  turning  misanthrope,  it  was  he.  Jackson  had 
dealt  him  a  prodigious  blow.  He  had  struck  him  not  only, 
at  the  worst  time  for  the  victim,  but  in  the  most  vital  spot, 
and  with  a  weapon  himself  had  placed  in  his  enemy's  hand. 
Clay  was  at  the  age  when  men  are  most  ambitious,  and  he 
was  naturally  one  of  the  most  ambitious  of  men.  He  had 
ascended  the  political  mount  with  toil  and  labor,  and  saw 
before  him  the  promised  land  glowing  in  the  beauty  of  a  love- 
ly landscape,  and  gilded  with  the  enchanted  hues  distance 
lends  to  the  view ;  and  to  be  hurled  rudely  and  suddenly 
back  to  the  foot  of  the  hill,  with  a  mountain  of  obloquy 
rolled  upon  him,  was,  certainly,  no  very  pleasant  experi- 
ence. 

Clay  plumed  himself  upon  his  elevation  of  character. 
He  had  formed  to  himself  a  model  and  an  ideal  far  above  the 
vulgar  standard  of  statesmanship.  He  had  taken  his  type 
(he  could  not  have  taken  a  higher)  from  the  brightest  exam- 
ples of  the  Virginia  school,  in  the  fresh  and  palmy  days  of 
her  glory  and  greatness.  His  ambition  was  to  fill  a  niche  in 
the  Pantheon,  in  which  the  Henrys,  the  Madisons,  the  Mar- 
shalls  stood.  His  large  love  of  approbation  sought  gratifi- 
cation, in  the  respect  and  homage  of  the  moral  and  the  intel- 
lectual of  the  land.  He  was  a  gentleman,  and  desired  to 
stand  high  in  the  front  rank  of  the  gentlemen  of  the  coun- 
try. Ho  loved  general  popularity,  too,  not  wisely  but  too 


JACKSON'S  CHARGE  AGAINST  CLAY.  309 

well.  His  strength  lay  in  the  lofty  appeals  he  made  to  the 
higher  and  nobler  qualities  of  the  heart,  to  whatever  digni- 
fies and  ennobles  our  nature,  and  in  his  withering  scorn  of 
the  base,  mean  and  sordid.  He  had  but  little  skill  and  no 
inclination  to  address  the  prejudices,  or  to  arouse  the  ground- 
ling passions  of  the  masses ;  but  those  who  have  listened  to 
his  stirring  and  animated  appeals  to  the  reason,  and  the 
moral  sense  and  the  generous  sensibilities  of  men,  until 
every  nerve  thrilled  at  his  bidding,  know  how  strong  was  the 
power  of  that  eloquence,  which,  equally  in  youth  and  in  age, 
could  sway  senates  and  courts  and  people,  as  the  moon  sways 
the  tides  of  the  sea.  To  assail  him  in  the  source  of  his 
power,  was  to  attack  his  very  life's  life.  He  found  himself 
so  assailed.  He  found  the  very  idea  of  his  existence  as- 
sociated with  the  idea  of  meanness.  He  found  his  name  the 
synonyme  of  intrigue,  treachery  and  political  knavery.  He 
found  the  popular  heart  inflamed  against  him  as  a  colossal 
cheat.  The  charge  Jackson  preferred  against  him  could  not 
be  answered  ;  for,  in  the  tempest  of  indignation  which  pre- 
vailed, his  voice  could  not  be  heard  above  the  din  of  the 
elements.  Jackson  had  piled  on  him  mountains  of  infamy, 
which  it  required  more  than  the  strength  of  the  Titans  of  old 
to  upheave.  A  thousand  presses  rang  with  the  charge ;  ten 
thousand  orators  echoed  it  from  ten  thousand  stumps.  He 
was  the  theme  of  hundreds  of  thousands  of  tongues,  all  busy 
in  the  work  of  acrid  denunciation.  In  the  council-hall,  in  the 
town  meeting,  in  city  and  in  country,  at  the  church  door,  in 
the  dram-shop,  on  the  muster  ground,  by  the  fire-side,  in  the 


310  JACKSON    AND    CLAY. 

stage-coach,  on  the  steamboat,  on  the  busy  wharf,  at  the  log- 
raising  on  the  remote  frontier,  his  infamy  was  the  engrossing 
topic  of  discourse.  More  than  this  :  the  leading  issue  of  a 
presidential  election  was  his  corruption  vel  non ;  and  the 
popular  verdict,  with  almost  unequalled  unanimity,  was 
against  him  ;  and  what  was  worse,  in  the  election  with  that 
issue,  his  native  state  and  his  adopted  state  both  went  against 
him. 

As  a  mass  of  quicksilver  attracts  to  it  the  vagrant  glob- 
ules, so  the  other  errors  of  his  free  and  unguarded  life  ran 
into  and  swelled  this  monstrous  accusation.  He  had  played 
cards,  like  Jackson  and  every  other  Southern  gentleman. 
He  was  now  set  down  as  little  short  of  a  regular  blackleg, 
who  had  turned  his  skill  in  that  sort  of  cheatery  into  poli- 
tics, and,  in  conspiracy  with  Adams,  had  cut,  shuffled  and 
dealt,  on  a  stocked  pack,  General  Jackson  and  the  whole 
American  people  out  of  the  presidency !  It  cannot  be  de- 
nied that,  at  this  time,  John  Randolph-'s  merciless  sarcasm 
was  the  expression  of  a  general  sentiment ;  that  he  occupied 
the  place  in  politics  assigned  to  Captain  Riley  in  private 
life,  or  to  Overreach  in  the  characters  of  fiction ;  and  that 
sentence  of  virulent  satire,  condensing  the  venom  of  a  whole 
brood  of  cobra  capellos,  "  the  union  of  the  puritan  and  the 
blackleg,  of  Blifil  and  Black  George,"  spoken,  as  Junius 
would  have  uttered  it,  conveyed  the  general  sense  at  once  of 
his  conduct  and  his  character.  No  wonder  Clay  called  the 
sardonic  satyr  to  the  field,  and  essayed  the  keen  marksman- 


SOUTHERN  JEALOUSY  OF  CLAY.  311 

ship  of  splitting  a  bullet  on  him ;  the  edge  of  his  shadowy 
outline  being  nearly  as  sharp  as  his  wit. 

Gen.  Jackson  was  not  a  man  to  leave  a  work  half  done. 
All  his  influence  was  exerted,  and  all  his  energies  employed, 
to  clinch  the  nail  driven  into  Clay's  character.  The  bold 
and  constant  denunciations  of  him  by  Gen.  Jackson,  were 
matters  of  knowledge  to  all  who  approached  the  White 
House.  Clay  found  those  who  had  been  his  warm  friends, 
some  of  them  his  confidential  and  trusted  ones,  in  the  ranks 
of  the  opposition,  not  merely  waging  a  political  warfare 
against  him,  but  the  loudest  and  the  bitterest  in  the  assaults 
upon  his  character.  It  was  a  valuable  lesson  in  human  na- 
ture that  was  taught  him ;  but  the  tuition  charge  was  some- 
what high. 

It  cannot  be  denied  that  the  Southern  statesmen  looked 
upon  Clay  with  something  of  jealousy  and  something 
of  unkindness.  Many  of  these  were  hereditary  politicians  ; 
almost  all  of  them  were  gentlemen,  born,  bred  and  educated. 
They  seemed  to  look  upon  the  Kentucky  senator  as  a  speci- 
men of  the  parvenu,  as  a  new  man,  as  a  hoosier,  and  a  hoo- 
sier  meant  "  half-horse,  half-alligator,  and  a  little  touch  of  the 
snapping- turtle."  He  had  come  from  the  backwoods,  at  a 
time  when  they  were  a  wilderness.  He  had  passed  through 
no  college.  His  ancestral  name  was  undistinguished.  He 
had  served  no  apprenticeship  to  any  great  man.  He  had 
been  heralded  and  endorsed  by  no  great  name.  Worse  than 
all,  he  walked  up  to  the  first  positions,  asking  no  leave,  con- 
ciliating no  patronage,  shunning  no  responsibility,  soliciting 


312  JACKSON    AND    CLAY. 

no  favors,  acknowledging  no  precedence,  and  ready  to  assail 
all  men  and  all  questions  that  came  in  his  way.  He  had 
risen  with  marvellous  rapidity  ;  first  senator,  then  leading 
member,  and  in  the  first  class  of  orators  and  statesmen, 
Speaker,  commissioner  to  Ghent,  offered  the  role  of  Madi- 
son's appointments,  refusing  it  again  under  Monroe,  candi- 
date for  President,  and  seemingly,  though  defeated  for  the 
present,  on  the  highway  to  the  presidency,  if  not  checked  in 
his  forward  course. 

Besides,  he  had  not  borne  himself  very  humbly,  certainly 
not  in  a  very  conciliating  spirit,  to  the  Virginia  influence, 
then  the  dominant  influence  in  the  House  for  brains  and  po- 
litical accomplishments.  He  had  given  those  politicians  sun- 
dry raps  on  the  knuckles ;  he  had  defeated  their  candidate 
for  the  speakership ;  he  had  opposed  them  on  the  internal 
improvement  and  tariff  questions;  and,  with  much  of  the 
sweetness  of  temper  and  frankness  of  Charles  Fox,  he  had  a 
cool,  lounging  sort  of  effrontery,  a  way  of  "  giving  a  piece 
of  his  mind" — an  air  of  deviltry  gleaming  out  of  his  spark- 
ling eye,  before  the  chin  lengthened  into  the  earnestness  and 
expressed  firmness  of  his  iron  resolution — which  was  not  a 
little  mocking  and  annoying  to  the  second-rate  men  of  Con- 
gress, oracles  at  home,  whom  he  encountered,  and  handled 
sometimes  not  very  gently. 

Almost  without  exception,  these  gentlemen  joined  in  the 
clamor  against  Clay's  imputed  corruption;  and,  almost 
without  exception,  did  they  live  to  regret  or  to  recant  the 
charges  they  uttered.  The  rising  talent  of  the  country, 


THE    WAR    OF    THE    GIANTS.  •       313 

especially  of  the  South,  with  probably  a  more  justifiable  pre- 
judice, caught  at  the  story,  and  made  the  stump  ring  and  the 
press  groan,  with  their  callow  and  rampant  sophomore  phi- 
lippics, before  their  porcupine  quills  had  grown  out  of  the  pin- 
feather. 

Clay  returned  to  the  shades  of  retirement,  and  Jackson 
stepped  into  the  Presidential  office.  Never  was  an  admin- 
istration inaugurated  more  auspiciously,  or  started  its 
voyage  on  a  smoother  sea  or  with  more  favoring  winds ;  and, 
from  the  seat  of  power,  its  chief  looked  down,  with  grim 
satisfaction,  upon  his  rival's  prospects,  clothed  in  true  poetic 
hues, 

'  Darkly,  deeply,  beautifully  blue.' 

The  high  office  did  not  change  the  iron  man  a  whit,  how- 
ever he  may  have  changed  it.  He  was  as  much  at  home  in 
the  White- House  as  in  his  marquee ;  and  wore  the  robes  of 
office  with  as  graceful  a  dignity  as  if  his  life  had  been  passed 
in  courts  and  cabinets.  Mens  equa  in  arduis,  might  have 
been  his  device,  as  Hastings'  in  India. 

The  calm^lelights  of  rural  retirement  did  not  long  hold, 
in  luxurious  repose,  the  active  spirit  of  Clay,  then  in  the 
golden  prime  of  his  faculties.  He  returned  in  1831-32  to  the 
Senate  of  the  United  States. 

And  now  began,  in  good  earnest,  the  war  of  the  giants. 

Each  was  in  the  place  best  fitted  for  the   display  of  his 

talents  :    Jackson  in  the  executive  department ;    Clay  in  the 

great  arena  of  debate,  the  American  Senate.     They  were 

H 


314  JACKSON    AND    CLAY. 

now,  where  they  could  be  seen  and  their  influence  felt,  by 
the  whole  American  people.  The  administration  of  Gen. 
Jackson  was  spirited.  His  strong  hand  was  felt  at  the  helm. 
The  tendency  and  character  of  his  administration  were  to 
consolidate  his  party.  He  impressed  his  own  individuality 
upon  the  government  and  the  nation.  His  exercise  of  the 
power  of  removal  and  appointment  inspired  a  new  excite- 
ment into  the  irregular  and  torpid  pulse  of  party  action. 

Clay  made  one  or  two  moves  on  the  board — and  these 
unfortunate  ones  for  his  popularity — in  favor  of  the  Che- 
rokees — against  pre-emption  to  settlers  on  the  public  lands, 
— in  favor  of  internal  improvements  and  the  Bank  of  the 
United  States,  and  against  the  appointment  of  Mr.  Van 
Buren  as  minister  to  England. 

Another  presidential  election  came  on,  and  Clay  again  took 
the  field  against  the  old  hero,  and  was  signally  defeated. 

Gen.  Jackson  came  into  his  second  term,  and  Clay  re- 
mained in  the  Senate  ;  and  now,  for  four  years,  the  struggle 
was  renewed  with  an  earnestness,  a  bitterness  and  an  ability 
which  brought  out  the  energies  of  the  two  opposing  leaders 
to  their  utmost  power.  Hitherto  parties  had  been  more  per- 
sonal than  political.  But  now  parties  were  to  be  formed, 
with  distinct  creeds  and  well-defined  principles,  which,  for  a 
quarter  of  a  century,  would  divide  the  country  throughout 
its  entire  length.  The  spirit  of  Jacksonism  was  now  to  be 
seen  in  its  full  agency  upon  the  country.  The  public  mind 
was  now  prepared  for  the  revelation  to  be  made  of  it.  The 
series  of  measures  affecting  the  currency,  beginning  with  the 


REMOVAL    OF    THE    DEPOSITS.  315 

removal  of  the  deposits,  constituted  the  leading  measures  of 
contest.  Never  was  the  personal  popularity  of  a  man  more 
thoroughly  tested,  the  firmness  of  a  politician  tried  more 
effectually,  nor  a  popularity  and  nerve  more  triumphantly  sus- 
tained. The  veto  of  the  U.  S.  Bank  was  nothing.  It  was 
rather  unpopular  even  independently  of  the  assailant's  popu- 
larity. Money  changers  are  not,  and  never  have  been,  popu- 
lar favorites,  from  the  time  they  were  driven  from  the  temple. 
Corporations  are  not  popular  in  republics.  Exclusive  pri- 
vileges, money  oligarchies,  rag-barons,  are  phrases  which 
catch  the  popular  ear.  Besides,  their  power  is  independent 
of  the  people.  They  are  controlled  by  wealth,  and  wealth 
has  no  friend  in  envious  poverty.  Besides,  charges  were 
made  against  the  Bank ;  and  to  make  a  charge  against  a 
colossal  shaving-shop,  is  the  same  thing  as  to  prove  it. 
Proof  is  irrelevant  and  out  of  place.  Moreover,  the  State- 
Rights  party,  who  only  tolerated  the  Bank  from  necessity, 
now  that  the  necessity  had  ceased,  opposed  it.  But  the  re- 
moval of  the  deposits  was  another  thing.  That  was  a  mea- 
sure of  unequalled  boldness.  It  involved  the  question  of  the 
-x. 

powers  of  the  different  departments  of  the  government.  It 
brought  into  conflict  the  legislature  and  the  executive.  The 
Senate  refused  to  sustain  the  measure.  It  rebuked  the  Pre- 
sident and  charged  him  with  usurping  power.  The  Presi- 
dent retorted  upon  the  Senate.  He  offered  his  protest.  It 
was  refused  a  place  on  the  Senatorial  records.  The  Presi- 
dent accused  that  body  of  prejudging  his  case,  and  of  trying 


316  JACKSON    AND    CLAY. 

and  convicting  him  of  crime  unheard  and  without  impeach- 
ment.    He  appealed  to  the  people. 

The  course  of  the  Senate  was  unwise.  We  think  it  un- 
fortunate for  the  Whigs  that  Clay  and  Calhoun  were  there  at 
all,  able  and  powerful  as  were  their  efforts  against  the  Presi- 
dent. The  popularity  of  Jackson  was  with  the  masses,  and 
it  was  a  popularity  against  them.  The  more  conspicuously 
he  stood  out  before  the  people,  especially  as  the  object  of 
assault,  and  of  assault  by  his  personal  enemies,  the  more  the 
popular  sympathies  would  side  with  him.  Their  attacks 
and  proceedings  carried  with  them  the  suspicion  of  ma- 
lignity, or,  at  least,  of  prejudice  and  interest.  There  was 
something,  too,  in  the  contest  of  Jackson  against  the  tre- 
mendous array  of  talent  embodied  against  him  (of  which  Clay, 
Webster  and  Calhoun  were  only  the  heads)  himself  stand- 
ing in  heroic  defiance  of  the  entire  host  — like  Codes  at  the 
head  of  the  bridge — that  was  calculated  to  inspire  admira- 
tion as  well  as  to  excite  sympathy,  with  a  generous,  warlike 
and  chivalric  people.  There  were  too  many  on  one.  The 
President  stands  as  a  personality — a  warm  and  living  man ; 
the  Senate  as  a  corporation.  The  former  draws  sympathy 
as  a  man  from  men.  The  latter  may  excite  terror  by  power, 
but  does  not  win  sensibility  through  feelings  of  a  kindred 
humanity.  Besides,  the  Senate  is  the  aristocratic  institu- 
tion. Our  idea  of  it  is  that  of  an  army  ;  of  the  destruction 
of  the  whole  of  which  we  can  hear  without  emotion ;  while 
the  portrayal  of  the  sufferings  of  an  individual  excites  our 
interest,  and  arouses  our  pity.  It  was  impolitic  to  have  put 


JACKSON'S  ADMINISTRATION.  317 

Jackson  on  his  resources — to  have  stimulated  an  activity, 
already  sufficiently  morbid.  It  were  better  to  have  "  given 
him  rope,"  and  taken  the  chances  of  his  betrayal  into  rasher 
schemes  or  projects,  or  of  his  leaving — a  small  chance — 
unfortified  his  positions.  The  question  must  have  been 
made  ;  and  the  great  struggle  should,  at  once,  have  been 
begun  before  the  people,  before  the  administration  and  its 
friends  had  foreclosed  inquiry.  Above  all,  the  pretexts  or 
grounds  of  crimination  which  he  found  in  the  conduct  of  the 
Senate,  should  not  have  been  given  him.  The  man  of  the 
whole  people  would  beat  the  confederation  of  the  men  of  the 
states,  with  any  thing  like  an  equal-showing. 

His  first  administration  was  aggressive,  exciting,  bold, 
daring ;  yet  not  rash,  considering  the  head  of  popularity 
which  brought  him  into  power,  and  the  small  and  feeble  op- 
position he  might  expect  to  encounter.  "What  he  did,  he  did 
boldly ;  and  much  is  forgiven  in  a  free  country  to  boldness. 
He  vetoed  the  Bank  bill,  which  pleased  the  State-Rights 
party,  then  a  powerful  interest ;  but  he  broke  the  effect  of 
the  veto  in  other  quarters,  by  the  intimation  that  some  dif- 
ferently organized  institution  might  meet  with  favor.  He 
pocketed  the  land  bill,  broke  up  the  cabinet,  quarrelled  with 
Calhoun,  and  kept  up  a  pretty  brisk  cannonade  on  the 
Bank,  then  floundering  and  spouting  blood  like  a  harpooned 
whale. 

But  the  leading  influence  on  the  country  was  the  doc- 
trine and  practice  of  removals  from  office.  He  rewarded 
friends  and  discarded  enemies.  He  gave  out  the  idea  pretty 


318  JACKSON    AND    CLAY. 

distinctly  that  it  was  worth  while  to  work  for  his  side,  and 
very  dangerous  to  the  office-holder  or  expectant  to  work 
against  him.  In  this  way,  he  diffused  his  own  spirit  and 
energy  through  every  department  of  the  government,  and 
into  every  section  of  the  country  ;  nor  in  this  way  only,  but 
by  his  port,  presence,  bearing,  enthusiasm,  personal  and 
official  correspondence,  and  his  earnest  and  decided  expres- 
sions to  all  of  the  many  who  came  near  him,  he  excited  the 
public  mind  in  his  favor,  and  seconded  the  efforts  of  an  able 
press  in  his  behalf.  He  had  one  advantage  without  which 
all  this  were  of  but  little  avail.  He  had  the  ear  and  the 
prepossessions  of  the  people ;  and  no  man  ever  lived  who 
could  better  address  their  passions,  and  apply  the  arguments, 
and  ply  the  appeals  which  found  approval,  or  would  create 
an  impression  on  the  common  mind.  It  is  astonishing  what 
one  powerful  and  active  mind,  concentrating  its  energies  on 
a  single  purpose,  can  accomplish.  Jackson  was  the  boss  of 
the  great  political  workshop,  and  he  tolerated  no  idleness 
among  the  journeymen  and  apprentices.  The  great  cen- 
tral will  was  felt  at  the  remotest  corners  of  the  empire.  The 
administration  was  a  highly-charged  galvanic  battery,  and 
the  office-holders  and  aspiring  politicians  were  the  media, 
diffused  throughout  all  parts  of  the  country,  by  which  the 
electric  current  flowed  out  upon  the  people. 

As  a  mere  party  appliance,  the  spoils  doctrine,  as  it  is 
called,  was  and  is  (it  seems  to  have  been  practically  adopted 
by  both  parties)  the  most  effective  engine  of  party.  It  es- 
tablishes communication  all  over  the  country  ;  it  gives  an 


THE    PROCLAMATION.  319 

interest  to  thousands  in  the  success  of  an  administration ;  it 
secures  a  corps  of  supporters,  besides  furnishing  them  with 
the  means  of  offence  and  assault ;  it  makes  the  office-holder's 
place  of  business  a  party  barrack,  and  himself  ex  officio  drill 
sergeant  and  recruiting  officer,  and  supplies  him  with  the 
materiel  for  obtaining  recruits,  and  instituting  and  perfect- 
ing organization.  If  it  addresses  the  lower  passions,  they 
are  the  more  active  and  energetic  faculties.  A  man  in 
politics  may  do  a  good  deal  from  patriotism,  but  he  does  it 
by  spasms  and  desultorily ;  while  he  will  work  all  the  time 
for  money  and  promotion ;  and  one  or  two  active  men  and 
their  tail  can  stir  up  a  prodigious  commotion  in  a  community, 
if  they  will  only  do  their  best.  The  origination  of  this 
system  was  worthy  of  the  genius  of  Ignatius  Loyola. 

The  proclamation  of  the  President  against  South  Caro- 
lina, and  the  Force-bill,  issued  in  accordance  with  its  princi- 
ples, was  a  severe  and,  in  its  result,  a  decisive  test  of  Gen. 
Jackson's  popularity.  We  have  alluded  to  the  enthusiasm 
with  which  the  State-Rights  party  had  supported  him,  and 
to  the  brilliant  array  of  talent  it  brought  to  his  aid.  The 
Virginia  influence  had  brought  the  prestige  of  the  '98  doc- 
trines and  the  statesmen  of  that  school,  to  the  hero's  stand- 
ard. It  had  supported  Jackson,  or  at  least,  had  opposed 
Adams  and  Clay,  upon  State-Rights  grounds.  Some  purple 
patches  of  the  old  Professor  of  Rhetoric,  intended  to  dizen 
out  the  commonplaces  of  one  of  his  messages — something 
about  "  light-houses  in  the  skies,"  and  a  toast  about  "  ebony 
and  topaz,"  which  came  pretty  well  up  to  the  Scotchman's 


320  JACKSON    AND    CLAY. 

definition  of  metaphysics,  neither  the  author  nor  reader  un- 
derstanding it — were  taken,  very  much  on  trust,  to  be  a 
covert  assailment  of  the  honored  tenets  of  1 798.  But  what 
were  these  milk-and-water  vaticinations  to  the  strong  meat 
of  the  proclamation  ?  The  proclamation  denied  the  sover- 
eignty of  the  States.  It  assumed  the  power  of  the  General 
Government  to  treat  a  State  as  a  revolted  province,  and  to 
hang  and  quarter  its  citizens  for  high  treason,  if  they,  in 
obedience  to  State  laws  or  ordinances,  opposed  the  laws  or 
authority  of  the  Federal  Government,  within  the  limits  of 
the  State.  Its  principles  unquestionably  surrendered  the 
State  up  to  the  mercy  of  the  Federal  Government ;  her  very 
existence  held  at  the  tenure  of  the  will  of  the  national 
powers ;  saving  only  the  right  of  revolution — a  right,  of 
which  power  is  the  predicate,  and  power  the  only  arbiter 
to  determine  whether  it  exists  in  any  given  case.  We  wish 
the  reader  to  understand  that  we  express  no  opinion,  as  to 
the  correctness  of  these  or  of  any  other  principles  or  prac- 
tices which  have  divided  parties.  We  are  only  reviewing  the 
history  of  the  time,  in  perfect  independence  of  partisan 
feeling.  But,  unquestionably,  the  heaviest  blow  ever  struck 
at  the  State-Rights  school,  was  dealt  by  the  proclamation. 
It  attacked  those  doctrines  in  the  abstract  and  in  the  con- 
crete, in  the  root  and  in  the  trunk,  in  the  branches,  in  the 
flower,  and  in  the  fruit.  Jackson  dealt  but  little  in  abstrac- 
tions at  any  time,  but  on  this  occasion  the  proclamation  was 
but  the  reading  of  the  riot  act  before  firing  into  the  crowd ; 
or,  rather,  it  was  only  a  programme  of  proceedings,  of  which 


JOHN    RANDOLPH.  321 

the  first  step  was  to  be  the  blockade  of  the  port  of  Charleston. 
If  it  be  true  that  political  or  religious  prejudices  may,  after 
long  and  incessant  inculcation  by  generation  on  generation, 
be  imbedded  and  ingrained  in  the  mental  or  moral  constitu- 
tion, so  that  they  become  hereditary,  like  the  instincts  of  ani- 
mals, State-Rights  doctrines  ought  to  have  been  ineradicable, 
flowing  in  the  blood,  and  mixing  in  the  marrow  of  the  South- 
ern, and  especially  of  the  Virginian  population,  For,  since 
"the  reign  of  terror,"  never  was  a  doctrine,  which  no  one 
opposed,  so  eloquently  and  powerfully  advocated,  taught, 
expounded,  and  sworn  by.  The  republican  doctrine  was 
affirmed  and  re-affirmed  in  every  variety  of  expression,  and 
with  religious  solemnity,  year  after  year,  and  by  every  de- 
partment of  the  State  government,  and  by  meetings  of  the 
people  in  every  town  and  hamlet.  It  was  the  thirty-nine 
articles,  to  which  every  candidate  for  holy  orders  had  to 
subscribe,  before  admission  into  the  Republican  church. 

No  wonder,  then,  that  the  leaders  stood  aghast  at  this 
bold  proclamation.  No  wonder  that  they  opposed  it.  No 
wonder  that  the  Virginia  legislature,  trembling  for  the 
honored  creed  which  had  given  Virginia  her  political  prom- 
inence and  authority,  and  a  line  of  Presidents  to  the  con- 
federacy, should  have  been  startled  into  opposition  to  this  new 
reading  of  the  constitution,  which  ignored  all  she  reverenced 
and  all  she  had  taught.  Tazewell  and  Tyler  and  Upshur, 
and  Floyd  and  Gilmer,  and  a  host  of  gallant  and  gifted  men, 
took  open  ground  against  the  President.  There  was  another. 
He  was  away  when  this  conflict  between  South  Carolina  and 
14* 


322  JACKSON    AND    CLAY. 

the  President  began.  The  bravest  lance  of  all  the  Knights 
of  the  Temple  was  away,  when  "  one  blast  upon  his  bugle-horn 
were  worth  a  thousand  men."  He  had  gone,  that  proud  and 
scornful  despiser  of  office  and  placemen,  that  haughty  con- 
temner  of  the  sycophants  and  hirelings  of  power ;  whose 
measureless  contempt  had  been  poured  out  in  showers  of 
vitriol  upon  sinecurists  and  dependents  on  official  patronage, 
until  elevation  to  office  seemed  to  those,  who  followed  the 
direction  of  his  bony  finger,  to  be  the  promotion  of  the 
pillory ;  whose  strength,  even  more  than  in  the  vigor  of  his 
sarcasm,  lay,  as  Samson's  in  his  locks,  in  the  immaculate 
disinterestedness  of  his  politics,  and  in  his  romantic  loyalty 
to  Virginia,  and  her  service,  and  her  rights ;  and  especially 
as  against  the  General  Government,  which  he  regarded,  as 
Hannibal  looked  upon  Rome,  as  her  sworn,  hereditary, 
usurping  enemy  ; — he,  in  a  moment  which  he  ever  cursed  as 
the  darkest  of  his  troubled  destiny,  had  taken  service  under 
the  administration.  And  where  was  this  great  Warwick, 
almost  "  the  last  of  the  barons,"  now  ?  He  had  borne  a 
body,  emaciated  to  a  skeleton  by  consumption,  to  the  hyper- 
borean regions  of  Europe,  with  express  permission  to  suffer 
the  office  to  be  subservient  to  his  personal  comfort  and  con- 
venience ;  with  a  constitution  fit  only  for  a  nursery  ;  with  an  in- 
tellect racked,  and,  at  times,  unseated  from  its  imperial  throne 
by  physical  disease,  and  the  exacerbations  of  a  temper  unfitted 
for  the  patient,  coolly-arranged  and  wily  plans  of  diplomacy ; 
a  presence  and  a  person  whose  uncouth  and  eccentric  move- 
ments only  found  apology  and  retained  respect  from  thos« 


JOHN    RANDOLPH.  323 

who  knew  him  in  the  past,  and  knew  the  splendid  abilities 
which  lay  behind  that  eccentricity  and  deformity :  HE — of 
all  living  men  ! — HE  went  as  a  liveried  sinecurist  to  the 
court  of  a  despot,  to  exhibit  himself  to  those  whose  language 
he  did  not  know,  and  who  did  not  know  his,  as  a  death's 
head  at  the  pageant  of  the  autocrat,  to  provoke  the  jeer  or 
the  more  melancholy  pity  of  a  frivolous  and  half-civilized 
court ! 

But  as  the  conflict  thickened,  which  involved  all  he  had 
ever  cherished  of  political  principle,  he  returned  home  again, 
weak  and  staggering,  but  with  the  old  fire  kindling  into 
fierce  action  his  sinking  pulse. 

Like  Brian  De  Bois-Guilbert  in  the  lists  of  Temple- 
stowe,  the  Cavalier  of  Roanoke  came  more  to  die  in  harness 
than  to  fight  in  the  cause,  and  as  the  champion  of  his  order. 
Right  clearly  did  his  voice  ring  out  the  old  war-cry,  and 
the  lance,  that  had,  in  his  boyish  hand,  struck  hard  and 
full  upon  the  helmet  of  Patrick  Henry,  was  now  boldly 
aimed  at  the  towering  crest  of  Jackson. 

Let  us  pause  to  do  some  meed  of  justice  to  this  great 
man's  memory.  With  all  his  faults  and  infirmities,-  great 
and  glaring  as  these  were,  he  was  "  the  noblest  Roman  of 
them  all."  There  was  more  of  the  true  grit  of  manhood  in 
him  than  in  any  man  of  his  school  Virginia  ever  produced. 
True,  he  was  no  democrat,  and  not  much  of  a  Republican, 
save  in  the  name.  Like  Burke,  his  mind  was  that  of  a  man 
of  caste.  He  was  a  baron,  but  a  baron  of  Virginia ;  a  re- 
presentative of  the  gentry,  with  all  the  ideas  and  prejudices 


324  JACKSON    AND   €LAY. 

of  class ;  a  Bramin  of  the  Bramins.  He  was  opposed  to  the 
Union,  opposed  to  the  Constitution,  because  it  raised  up  a 
government  and  power  greater  than  Virginia.  It  razeed 
Virginia  from  her  imperial  state.  It  allowed  the  Yankee  to 
interfere  with  her  affairs,  nay  even  to  control  her  policy. 
He  wished  to  limit  the  power  of  the  Federal  Government — to 
un-nationalize  it  as  much  as  possible — to  recover  by  con- 
struction what  she  had  lost  by  concession  ;  and  for  his  whole 
life  was  he  consistent,  amidst  a  deluge  of  inconsistencies 
in  his  associates.  This  was  his  polar  star;  and  by  it, 
wherever  the  winds  or  tides  of  passion  or  of  circumstance 
bore  him,  he  meant  to  steer,  as  his  guide  over  the  troublous 
sea  of  politics. 

Beneath  all  the  banners  under  which  he  had  fought,  in 
all  the  associations  into  which  he  had  come ;  in  the  hours  of 
triumph  and  in  the  days  of  adversity  ;  in  all  moods  of  temper 
and  in  all  transitions  of  mind ;  in  every  alternation  of  phy- 
sical condition,  there  was  one  sentiment  constant  and  un- 
changed, and  that  was  love  of  Virginia.  His  imagination, 
fervid  and  poetic,  dwelt  lovingly  amidst  the  scenes  and  the 
incidepts  of  her  past  glory ;  for  it  was  Virginia,  as  she  was 
in  her  youth,  in  the  days  of  her  loosely-held  colonial  depen- 
dence— Virginia,  as  she  was  when,  heroically,  in  the  old 
English  spirit,  her  planters,  with  the  pride  of  the  Barons 
holding  council  and  dictating  terms  to  John  at  Runnymede, 
rose  to  throw  off  the  British  yoke,  yet  preserved  so  much  of 
the  order  and  conservatism  of  English  institutions,  even  in 
the  very  acts  of  resistance  and  revolution ;  it  was  the 


325 

Virginia  of  the  freeholders  ruled  by  the  gentry,  cherishing 
her  talent  and  exulting  in  the  virtues  and  renown  of  her 
great  men,  that  won  the  affection,  and  drew  out  the  rever- 
ence of  her  gloriously-gifted  son.  His  veneration  for  her 
made  her  very  defects  seem  virtues  to  his  idolatrous  eyes. 
She  was  a  model.  He  resented,  as  little  short  of  impiety, 
any  alterations  in  her  government  or  laws.  Every  propo- 
sition for  reform  he  considered  as  an  invitation  to  a  dese- 
cration of  the  sacred  labors  of  his  fathers.  As  in  a  lover's 
eyes,  so  in  his,  blemishes  apparent  to  all  others  were  beau- 
ties. Progress  was  a  name  for  ruin  and  destruction,  and 
the  desire  to  remodel  her  Constitution  the  idea  of  Vandals 
or  Jacobins.  It  was  his  love  for  Virginia  that  survived  the 
last,  as  it  lived  the  strongest,  of  his  affections.  Like  the 
Venetian  exile's,  his  heart  never  beat  for  Virginia, 

but  with  such  yearning  as 

The  dove  has  for  her  distant  nest. 

But  with  what  feelings  could  he  think  of  the  government, 
which,  according  to  his  idea,  was  before  too  strong,  enlarged 
into  the  colossal  structure  of  almost  imperial  power  and 
grandeur ;  the  state  governments  playing,  like  satellites, 
around  the  great  central  sun  ? 

Jackson  had  got  between  the  politicians  and  the  people. 
It  is  true,  to  a  limited  extent,  that  they  had  introduced  him. 
It  is  true,  that  they  had  contributed  to  impress  him  upon  the 
public  mind.  They  had  been  profuse  of  eulogiums  upon  his 
character.  They  had  exhausted  commendation  upon  him. 
But  they  could  not  recall  the  impression  they  had  made, 


326  JACKSON    AND    CLAY. 

and  they  had  made  him  greater  than  themselves.  They  had 
a  good  deal  mistaken  their  own  power  and  popularity,  after 
Jacksonism  came  into  fashion.  They  thought  they  had  made 
it,  when  they  were  but  made  by  it.  They  were  floating  upon 
it  as  drift-wood,  while  they  vainly  thought  they  were  giving 
motion  to  its  resistless  current.  Its  proud  waves  would  not 
be  stayed  at  their  bidding,  but  dashed  to  destruction,  amidst 
the  rocks  and  breakers,  those  who  sought  to  turn  and  buffet 
the  raging  flood. 

Many  politicians  experienced  the  truth  of  this  observa- 
tion. Many,  who  before  the  Jackson  era,  had  flourished  as 
pachas  in  their  local  demesnes,  found  to  their  sorrow,  that 
they  had  raised  up  a  Sultan,  who  could  bow-string  them  at 
pleasure,  for  a  word  of  contumacy  or  an  act  of  rebellion 
against  his  authority.  Nor  was  it  different  with  principles. 
These  had  been  the  shibboleths  with  which  they  had  passed 
the  disputed  defiles  of  politics ;  but  now  they  were  nullified 
by  a  new  watch-word.  The  political  conjurers  found  the 
old  cabalistic  phrases  of  "  State-Eights,"  "  Keform,"  and  £he 
like,  superseded  by  the  modern  cry  of  "  Hurrah  for  Jack- 
son ! "  Jackson  had  got  into  the  hearts  of  the  people,  and 
the  unreasoning  affection  for  the  man  was  stronger  with  the 
masses  than  the  wise  words  of  the  politicians'  argumentation. 
Principles  are  hard  to  understand,  but  sympathy  and  pas- 
sion work  their  way  without  troubling  the  brain  for  thought 
or  research  for  facts.  The  first  are  spontaneous  productions ; 
the  last  only  come  after  cultivation  and  labor.  The  masses 
prefer  the  indigenous  articles. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Removal  of  the  Deposits— Jackson's  CriLical  Position— His  Iron  Nerve— Eemoval 
of  Duane— The  "Whig  Party— Union  of  the  Purse  and  the  Sword— Difference 
between  the  English  and  American  Governments — -Jackson's  Charges  against  the 
United  States  Bank—  His  Issue  before  the  People— The  Conduct  of  the  Bank— 
Biddle— His  Blunders— Commercial  Distress— Jackson's  Tact— His  Appeal  to  the 
Farmers — Effect  of  the  Deposits  on  the  State  Banks — Increase  of  Banks  and 
Paper  Money — Error  of  the  Democratic  Party — Jackson's  Triumph — The  Mone- 
tary and  Speculative  Excesses  of  1835-36— The  Specie  Circular— Its  Effects. 

IT  has  been  thought  strange,  that  even  a  popularity,  so 
strong  and  so  consolidated  as  Jackson's,  could  have  with- 
stood the  powerful  opposition  arrayed  against  him,  upon 
the  bold  measure  of  the  Removal  of  the  Deposits  from 
the  UniteB  States  Bank.  Calhoun's  coalition  with  the 
National  Republicans,  was  certainly  something  gained 
to  the  opposition ;  but  Calhoun  and  his  congressional 
friends  brought  more  talent  than  numbers.  It  might  have 
been  supposed,  too,  that  the  character  of  the  measure,  suc- 
ceeding, as  it  did,  other  measures  strongly  federal,  would 
have  brought  against  the  President  the  influence  of  the  State- 
Rights  party.  This  was  the  case  to  a  considerable  extent. 


328  JACKSON    AND    CLAY. 

Many,  who  did  not  desert  the  President  on  the  question  of 
the  Proclamation,  but  who  were  cooled  by  that  measure, 
deserted  him  now.  But  the  State-Rights  party  had  opposed 
the  Bank ;  and  it  was  not  easy  to  persuade  the  people,  who 
go  for  results,  and  do  not  very  curiously  scan  the  means,  that 
any  conduct  towards  a  rotten,  corrupt,  and  unconstitutional 
bank,  was  not  proper,  or,  if  improper,  deserved  severe  repre- 
hension ;  and,  thus,  the  aid  of  those  who  made  such  admis- 
sions, was  not  very  great. 

The  first  impression  made  by  the  opposition  was  encour- 
aging to  them.  The  speeches  in  the  Senate  were  echoed 
back  by  the  proceedings  of  public  meetings,  all  over  the 
country.  There  seemed  to  be  a  general  uprising  of  the 
trading  and  mechanical  classes,  especially  in  the  large  com- 
mercial cities. 

They  passed  resolutions  disapproving  of  the  removal  of 
the  deposits,  and  petitioned  for  their  restoration.  Memo- 
rials, with  innumerable  signatures,  were  gotten  up  to  the 
same  effect.  The  times  grew  hard.  A  great  pressure  occur- 
red in  the  money  circles.  Clamor  and  excitement  reigned  in 
Wall  street,  and  on  the  Exchanges  of  the  Atlantic  cities ; 
panic  and  consternation  took  the  place  of  confidence  and  con 
tentment  amongst  the  tradesmen  ;  failure  upon  failure  sue 
ceeded ;  the  banks  ceased  to  discount,  and  some  of  them 
closed  doors ;  the  business  of  large  towns  languished  and 
declined ;  and  thousands  of  workmen  were  thrown  out  of 
employment.  The  friends  of  the  President  deserted  him  by 
regiments.  The  politicians  turned  pale,  and  hesitated,  and 


JACKSON'S  CRITICAL  POSITION.  329 

looked  for  a  soft  place  to  fall  down  upon,  or  broke  into  open 
revolt.  The  enemies  of  the  President  took  heart,  and  made 
a  bold  assault  upon  him  and  his  course.  Committees  from 
the  cities  filled  the  lobbies  of  the  Senate  and  the  Represen- 
tative Hall,  and  waited  in  formal  state  upon  the  President. 
All  would  not  do.  He  stood  like  a  rock,  unshaken  and  un- 
moved. He  did  not  arouse  himself  to  meet  the  crisis.  He 
was  always  ready  for  it.  He  was  but  the  calmer  for  the 
storm.  They  told  him  all  who  traded  on  borrowed  capital 
must  break.  He  knocked  the  ashes  from  his  pipe,  and 
calmly  remarked  that  all  who  traded  on  borrowed  capital 
ought  to  break.  He  heard  with  sober  attention  all  they  had 
to  say,  and  merely  observed,  that  his  mind  was  made  up. 

Nothing  but  Jackson's  nerve  saved  him.  If  he  had 
flinched  or  sought  to  conciliate  opposition,  or  to  compromise 
with  the  Bank,  or  even  had  he  contented  himself  with  a 
defensive  attitude,  he  would  have  lost  the  day.  The  Senate 
was  against  him,  and  the  tone  of  Clay  was  triumphant,  ex- 
ulting, and  full  of  confidence  and  hope.  But  the  very  bold- 
ness of  the  measure  was  Jackson's  protection.  The  courage 
that  leads  It,  man  into  danger  is  his  best  shield  against  it. 
Jackson  had  taken  the  responsibility.  He  had  come  out 
from  behind  all  entrenchments.  He  exposed  his  whole  front. 
He  had  done  a  bold  thing  boldly,  and  in  the  light  of  day. 
Like  a  brave  man  who  goes  out  on  a  dangerous  expedition, 
he  refused  to  ask  any  one  to  be  the  companion  of  the  enter- 
prise. He  hazarded  every  thing.  So  far  as  appeared,  he 
could  make  nothing  by  success.  He  might  lose  every  thing 


330  JACKSON    AND    CLAY. 

by  failure.  He  was  not  sure  of  his  own  party.  Indeed,  his 
Secretary  refused  to  obey  him ;  the  Congress  of  his  friends 
had  pronounced  against  him  on  the  propriety  of  the  re- 
moval, and,  indeed,  it  seems,  he  had  little  confidence  that 
they  would  reverse  that  judgment ;  for  he  did  not  wait  for 
the  few  weeks  to  elapse  when  they  would  assemble  again. 
The  Bank  was  still  a  powerful  influence.  It  had  many  Demo- 
cratic friends  in  Congress.  It  would  make  a  fierce  struggle, 
and  seek  to  regain,  in  resistance  to  this  movement,  the 
ground  it  was  losing  under  the  veto. 

Jackson  saw  the  whole  ground,  and  was  prepared  for  the 
worst.  It  was  the  boldest  and  most  hazardous  enterprise  of 
his  life.  He  stood  alone,  or  with  only  Blair  and  one  or  two 
other  friends  at  his  back.  He  had  in  "  The  Globe"  though, 
good  backing  as  far  as  one  man — himself,  in  his  way,  a  host — 
could  make  it.  He  ordered  the  Secretary  of  the  Treasury 
to  remove  the  deposits  ;  but  Duane  refused.  Here  was  a 
new  difficulty.  If  Duane  resigned,  the  President  could 
appoint  another  man  in  his  place.  But  Duane  would  not  re- 
sign, Jackson  removed  him ;  and  having  made  up  his  mind 
to  carry  this  measure,  he  would  have  removed  all  the  officers 
in  the  government,  if  they  had  stood  between  him  and  his 
purpose. 

"When  the  WHIG  PARTY  was   formed,    it  was  a  critical 
period  for  the  President.     It  not  only  combined  new  element 
of  opposition,  but  the  name — and  "  names  are  things  "  in 
politics — was    an   old    and  venerable    one,    and    around   it 
gathered  many  associations  of  the  most  stirring  interest.     It 


THE    PURSE   AND    THE    SWORD.  331 

was  based,  too,  upon  the  old  principle,  which,  as  well  in 
England,  as  in  our  own  country,  had  marked  the  line  of 
division  between  the  advocates  of  executive  prerogative  and 
power,  and  the  champions  of  popular  or  legislative  privilege  ; 
and  it  was  claimed,  with  at  least  a  color  of  truth,  that,  in 
these  bold  measures,  affecting  the  money  of  the  nation,  the 
legislative  department,  to  which  its  custody  and  expenditure 
belonged,  had  been  invaded  by  an  act  of  the  executive,  which 
assumed  the  control  and  disposition  of  the  public  treasure.  It 
was  charged  that  the  President  had,  by  his  conduct,  fulfilled 
the  definition  Patrick  Henry  gave  of  a  tyrant,  by  uniting  in 
his  own  hands  the  purse  and  the  sword.  It  remained  to  see 
what  effect  would  be  given  to  this  revival  of  the  old  English 
and  American  revolutionary  name,  supported,  as  it  was,  by 
this  plausible  title  to  it,  on  the  part  of  the  enemies  of  the 
administration. 

It  is  true  that  the  great  characteristics  of  English  parties, 
running  through  so  many  centuries,  and  still  dividing  them, 
were  the  rival  principles,  one  of  which  sought  to  limit  the 
power  of  the  executive,  and  to  give  power  to  the  legislature, 
and  the  other,  to  strengthen  the  executive,  at  the  expense  of 
the  legislature.  But,  it  must  be  remembered,  that  our  Con- 
stitution is  widely  different  from  the  British  form.  The 
throne  is  independent  of  the  people.  The  king  is  neither 
elected  by  the  people,  nor,  within  the  constitution,  remova- 
ble by  them,  nor  responsible  to  them.  His  interests  may 
be  adverse  to  theirs.  His  power,  whenever  increased,  derives 
its  accessions  from  their  liberties  and  rights.  The  commons 


332  JACKSON    AND    CLAY. 

/ 

are  their  only  representatives.  But,  in  our  form,  the  pre- 
sidential chair  rests  upon  the  same  basis  as  the  seat  of  the 
member  of  Congress.  The  President  stands  even  nearer  to 
the  people  than  the  Senator.  He  owes  his  official  existence 
to  the  people  ;  he  holds  office  for  a  limited  term — practically 
he  is  disqualified  from  holding  it  for  more  than  eight  years  ; 
he  came  from  the  people,  and  he  goes  back,  like  any  other 
citizen,  to  live  and  die  amongst  the  people.  He  is,  before 
his  election  and  after  it,  an  object  of  peculiar  interest.  He 
must  have  been  known,  and  favorably  known,  to  his  country- 
men. He  is  talked  of,  his  character  and  merits  canvassed, 
his  history,  and  services,  and  qualities,  discussed  in  every 
neighborhood,  nay,  at  every  fireside,  in  the  Republic.  He 
stands  forth,  therefore,  in  bold  relief.  He  comes  accredited 
to  the  people  by  the  popular  endorsement,  and  by  the  pres- 
tige of  success.  It  is  vain  to  talk  to  a  confiding  people, 
whose  affections  are,  at  least,  as  strong  as  their  judgments ; 
who  are  not  politicians,  and  who  do  not  look  forward  from 
abstract  dogmas  to  far-off  results,  that  it  is  their  duty  to 
be  jealous  and  suspicious  of  him  whom  they  have  just  trusted 
with  the  highest  proof  of  their  confidence  and  regard. 

It  is  very  true  that  the  sentiment  of  liberty  has  grown 
with  us  into  a  passion.  But  liberty  is  a  very  indefinite  term, 
and  conveys  a  very  vague  meaning,  until  some  overt  act, 
coming  home  to  the  people,  gives  it  an  interpretation.  That 
sort  of  liberty,  which  is  invaded  in  the  small  beginnings — in 
the  cautious  encroachments  of  tyranny,  feeling  its  way 
gradually  to  ungranted  and  unlawful  dominion — the  seed- 


JACKSON'S  CHARGES  AGAINST  THE  BANK.  333 

acts,  from  which  spring  up,  at  a  distant  day,  a  harvest  of 
errors  and  precedents  of  evil — these  it  requires  sharper 
acumen  than  the  masses  possess,  to  see  at  the  right  time, 
and  in  their  real  character.  For  example — what  invasion 
was  it — they  asked — of  their  liberty,  for  the  President  to 
remove  the  public  money  from  the  Sank,  a  wholesale  shaving- 
shop,  to  other  places  of  deposit  ? 

Besides,  Jackson  always  had  the  sagacity  to  disguise 
his  strong  measures  in  popular  forms.  Whether  his  acts 
were  always  popular  or  not,  his  reasoning  always  was. 
Whether  his  proceedings  were  despotic  or  not,  he  defended 
them  upon  the  principles  and  in  the  name  of  freedom.  It 
was  the  Bank,  he  charged,  that  was  the  tyrant.  It  was 
seeking  to  overturn  the  government,  and  to  enslave  and  cor- 
rupt the  people.  It  was  buying  up  members  of  Congress, 
and  subsidizing  the  press.  It  was  producing  the  panic  and 
pressure,  which  disordered  commerce,  and  crippled  industry, 
and  turned  out  labor  to  starve,  in  order  to  force  upon  the 
people  its  own  financial  system,  and  a  renewal  of  its  existence. 
It  had  violated  its  charter.  It  had  closed  its  doors  against 
investigation.  It  had  been  false  to  its  contracts.  It  had  ex- 
pended vast  sums  of  money  in  electioneering  schemes  and 
practices  against  the  government.  It  had  assumed  a  tone  of 
haughty  insolence  towards  the  President,  as  disrespectful  to  the 
office  as  to  the  incumbent.  Its  president  lived  in  a  style  be- 
fitting a  prince  of  the  blood  royal.  From  his  palace  of  An- 
dalusia he  came  to  his  marble  palace  in  Philadelphia,  to  issue 
his  ukases  which  caused  the  stocks  to  rise  and  fall  all  over 


334  JACKSON    AND    CLAY. 

the  world.  He  was  the  Money  King — "  the  despot  with  the 
quill  behind  his  ear,"  whom  John  Randolph  said  he  feared 
more  than  a  tyrant  with  epaulettes.  He  could  make  money 
plentiful  or  scarce,  property  high  or  low,  men  rich  or  poor,  as 
he  pleased.  He  could  reward  and  he  could  punish ;  could  set 
up  and  pull  down.  His  favor  was  wealth,  his  enmity  ruin. 
He  was  a  government,  over  which  the  people  had  no  control. 

Thus,  it  will  be  seen,  with  what  exquisite  tact  the  Presi- 
dent presented  the  issue  to  the  people.  It  was  the  issue  of 
a  powerful  money  oligarchy,  in  its  last  struggles  for  power 
denied  by  the  people,  warring  against  the  government  the 
people  had  set  up.  Jackson  stood  the  impersonation  of  the 
popular  sovereignty,  warring  against  an  usurping  moneyed 
institution — an  enormous  shaving-shop.  St.  George  and  the 
Dragon  was  only  the  ante-type  of  Jackson  and  the  Mon- 
ster! 

The  truth  is,  that  what  Jackson  lacked  of  material  to 
make  head  against  the  Bank,  the  Bank  more  than  supplied. 
Biddle,  its  president,  seems  to  have  been  a  worse  politician 
than  financier.  From  the  first  hostile  demonstration  of  the 
President,  to  the  final  explosion  of  the  new  institution,  into 
which  the  assets  and  management  of  the  National  Bank  were 
carried,  the  whole  series  of  movements  was  a  series  of  blun- 
ders and  follies. 

If  the  Bank  had  been  bent  upon  ruin,  it  could  have  taken 
no  surer  method  of  suicide.  The  opposition  of  its  friends 
in  Congress  to  an  investigation  into  its  affairs ;  its  contribu- 
tions towards  the  publication  of  political  papers  and  pamph- 


JACKSON    AND   BIDDLE.  335 

lets ;  its  large  loans  to  newspaper  editors,  and  to  members 
of  Congress ;  the  immense  extension  of  its  line  of  discounts 
— these  things,  however  innocent,  naturally  gave  rise  to  sus- 
picion, and  suspicion,  in  its  case,  was  conviction.  The  tone 
it  adopted  in  its  report,  towards  the  President,  or,  rather, 
towards  the  paper  sent  to  the  cabinet,  signed  "  Andrew 
Jackson,"  was  in  as  bad  taste  as  policy.  The  truth  is,  the 
President  of  the  Bank  greatly  underrated  the  President  of 
the  United  States.  Jackson  was  a  much  abler  man  than 
Biddle  supposed.  The  unlearned  man  of  the  backwoods 
knew  the  American  people  better  than  the  erudite  scholar  of 
the  refined  metropolis.  The  tenant  of  the  Hermitage  was, 
by  all  odds,  a  wiser  politician  than  the  lord  of  the  princely 
demesnes  of  Andalusia. 

It  is  true  that  the  crisis  was  a  sharp  one.  Great  distress 
was  felt,  great  clamor  was  raised,  immense  excitement  pre- 
vailed. The  storm  burst  suddenly,  too,  and  with  tropical 
fury.  The  President's  friends  fell  off  like  autumnal  leaves 
in  a  hurricane.  The  party  leaders  grew  anxious ;  many  of 
them  were  panic-stricken,  and  some  of  them  deserted ;  but 
the  pilot  at  the  helm  stood  like  another  Palinurus  in  the 
storm.  The  distress  was  confined  mostly  to  the  commercial 
cities.  Jackson's  reliance  was  mainly  on  the  rural  districts, 
and,  luckily  for  him,  these  contained  the  great  mass  of  the 
population,  devoted  to  the  calm  and  independent  pursuit 
of  husbandry,  and  devoted  to  him.  The  farmers  were,  to  a 
great  extent,  independent  of  banks  and  free  of  debt,  and  de- 
pending for  support  upon  the  sale  of  necessaries,  which  gen- 


336  JACKSON     AND    CLAY. 

erally  command,  under  all  states  of  the  money  market,  re- 
munerating prices. 

That  there  was  great  distress  could  not  be  denied.  But 
whose  fault  was  it  ?  The  Bank  laid  the  blame  on  the  Presi- 
dent ;  the  President  laid  it  on  the  Bank.  Which  was  to  be 
believed  ?  The  immediate  cause  was  the  conduct  of  the 
Bank  in  withdrawing  its  circulation ;  but  this  was  made 
necessary,  it  was  said,  by  the  withdrawal  of  the  public  money. 
This  was  denied  ;  and  it  was  charged  that  the  Bank  had,  by 
the  unnecessary  and  corrupt  extension  of  its  discounts  and  ac- 
commodations, put  itself  into  the  necessity  of  this  sharp  mea- 
sure of  protection,  even  if  such  necessity  existed. 

But  relief  was  at  hand.  The  deposits  were  placed  in 
the  vaults  of  the  state-banks.  The  United  States  Bank 
was  out  of  the  way.  The  funds  of  the  government,  overflow- 
ing in  all  its  channels  of  revenue,  became  the  feeders  to 
numberless  Bogus  banks  all  over  the  country.  Bank  charters 
multiplied  in  the  land.  A  state  of  almost  fabulous  prosperi- 
ty, as  it  seemed,  set  in.  The  revolution  went  back  for  the 
first  time.  But  the  calm  was  worse  than  the  storm — the 
prosperity  worse  than  the  adversity.  And  here  was  the 
great,  and,  for  a  time  as  it  turned  out,  the  fatal  error  of  the 
Democratic  party.  It  had  not  provided  for  the  exigencies 
it  created.  The  United  States  Bank  was  put  down,  but 
where  was  the  substitute  ?  The  Bank  had  been  the  fiscal 
agent  of  the  government,  in  fact  the  treasury ;  what  was  to 
succeed  to  its  duties  ?  If  the  public  money  was  not  safe  in 
the  United  States  Bank,  it  could  scarcely  be  considered  safe 


MONETARY    EXCESSES    OF    1835-6.  337 

in  the  various  shin-plaster  concerns,  that  had  sprung  up,  like 
frog-stools,  all  over  the  Union  j  nor  could  individuals,  in 
such  wild  and  uncertain  times,  especially  without  new  re- 
strictions and  securities,  be  intrusted  with  the  enormous 
sums  coming  into  the  hands  of  the  government,  when  every 
man  was  a  speculator,  and  every  speculation  seemed  a  for- 
tune !  It  could  scarcely  have  escaped  the  sagacity  of  the 
politicians,  who  were  inveighing,  every  day,  against  the  evils 
of  the  credit  and  paper  systems,  that  this  enormous  bank- 
ing, so  suddenly  and  prodigiously  increased,  must,  at  no 
distant  day,  lead  to  a  monetary  crisis,  which,  compared  with 
that  following  the  removal  of  the  deposits,  would  be  like  a 
hurricane  to  a  zephyr.  But  no  adequate  safeguard  was  pro- 
vided. Present  peace  was  purchased  at  the  expense  of  future 
overthrow  ;  and  it  was  bequeathed  to  Mr.  Van  Buren  to  reap 
the  whirlwind,  from  the  wind  sown  by  his  predecessor. 

But,  for  the  present,  the  sky  cleared  again.  Jackson 
rallied  his  hosts.  He  recovered  his  lost  ground  ;  he  regained 
his  captured  standards  ;  he  cashiered  the  deserters,  and  in- 
spired throughout  the  country  a  fresher  zeal  for  the  party, 
and  an  almost  superstitious  conviction  of  his  own  invinci- 
bility. 

And  now  we  had  reached  the  climax  of  one  of  those 
prodigious  hallucinations,  which  sometimes,  like  epidemics, 
sweep  over  nations,  carrying  before  them  all  lessons  of  tl^e  past, 
all  experience,  reason,  sagacity  and  common  sense.  The 
South  Sea  bubble,  the  Mississippi  scheme  in  France,  the 
wild  years  of  1818-19  in  our  own  country,  all  added  together, 
15 


338  JACKSON    AND    CLAY. 

scarcely  paralleled,  in  their  multiplied  follies  and  chicanery, 
the  monetary  excesses  of  1835-0.  We  need  give  but  a  few 
of  the  features :  Bank  paper,  by  the  million  of  dollars,  rest- 
ing on  no  foundation  better  than  insolvent  promises ;  an 
unlimited  credit  system,  inflated  to  the  utmost  tension  of 
speculation,  without  calculation  as  to  means  or  results  ;  an 
universal  indebtedness,  with  no  medium  of  payment  except 
paper  credits,  liable,  nay,  certain,  at  the  first  challenge  of 
their  soundness,  to  prove  worthless ;  an  extravagance,  in 
modes  of  living,  forbidden  by  prudence  to  wealth,  yet  in- 
dulged in  by  poverty ;  enormous  importations  of  goods, 
bought  on  credit,  and  sold,  to  the  sixth  remove,  on  credit ; 
indebtedness  by  every  state  and  by  every  corporation,  for 
all  it  could  borrow  to  make  impossible  railroads,  and  to  navi- 
gate unnavigable  rivers  ;  while  the  whole  nett  product  of  the 
country  would  scarcely  pay  the  interest  on  its  debt ;  and  this 
apparently,  but  a  starting  point  for  other  enterprises  and 
operations  still  more  magnificent ;  the  whole  country  turned 
out  to  speculation  and  fortune-hunting;  prices  up  fourfold, 
and  going  still  higher  every  day  ;  every  channel  and  depart- 
ment of  commerce  or  speculation  foaming  with  the  rushing 
tides  of  adventure,  and  every  highway  teeming  with  adven- 
turers, swarming  in  hordes  over  the  land.  It  seemed  as  if 
a  new  chapter  had  opened  in  history,  and  that  the  world  had 
been  l^t  out  of  the  school  of  common  sense  for  a  holiday 
of  wild  commercial  insanity. 

At  the  height  of  this  mardi-gras,  and  in  the  agony  of 
this  wild  sport,  Gen.  Jackson  threw  down  the  specie  circu- 


THE    SPECIE    CIRCULAR.  339 

lar.  The  blow  was  as  sudden  as  it  was  effectual.  In  itself 
it  amounted  to  no  great  deal.  It  required  specie  for  gov- 
ernment debts,  which  any  creditor  has  a  right  to  demand. 
Gold  and  silver,  to  the  amount  of  a  few  millions,  were  seem- 
ingly no  hard  requisition  on  banks  that  had  promised  to  pay 
hundreds  of  millions  on  demand.  But  the  circular  was  as 
effectual  as  an  injunction  in  chancery  not  only  on  the  banks, 
but  on  every  body  in  trade.  It  caused  examination ;  it. 
called  a  halt ;  men  began  to  take  their  latitude.  It  was 
found  they  were  far  out  at  sea.  The  confidence  of  the 
public  was  broken.  The  sole  capital  of  the  banks  was  this 
confidence,  and  confidence  was  now  gone.  A  rush — a  sus- 
pension— a  failure — a  crash  from  Maine  to  Louisiana,  in- 
volving ruin,  and  all  the  evils  which  attend  the  failures  of 
those  who  seek  by  mendacity  to  prevent  the  results  of  folly. 
In  any  other  country,  this  prodigious  shock  would  have 
produced  a  revolution.  Perhaps  even  here  it  would  have 
done  so,  had  the  ultimate  effects  of  the  measure  been  seen, 
and  had  revolution  promised  any  relief.  But  it  remained  to 
be  seen  how  much  might  yet  be  saved  from  the  wreck.  The 
suspension  of  business  was  as  instantaneous  as  it  would  be 
in  Boston,  if,  suddenly,  all  the  railways  were  taken  up,  and 
the  telegraphic  wires  torn  down.  The  shock  was  so  sharp 
and  quick  that  men  had  no  time  for  remonstrance  or  oppo- 
sition ;  and  the  first  moment  of  cool  reflection  to  an  old 
trader  made  him  feel  as  ridiculous  as  an  old  Calvinistic  di- 
vine would  feel,  if,  stung  by  a  tarantula  and  dancing  a  minuet 
with  the  simpering  airs  of  a  gallant,  he  suddenly  recovered 
to  a  true  sense  of  his  situation. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Jackson's  Second  Term— Yan  Buren  Elected  President— Commercial  Distress- 
Party  Excitement— Harrison's  Election  and  Death— Tyler's  Administration- 
Clay's  Defeat— Jackson's  Death— His  Achievements  and  Character. 

THE  second  term  of  Gen.  Jackson's  administration  was  mark- 
ed with  stirring  and  startling  events.  Never,  probably,  in 
times  of  peace,  were  crowded,  into  so  short  a  period,  so 
many  acts  and  movements,  fraught  with  all  the  incidents 
and  excitements  of  war.  Washington  City  resembled  the 
head-quarters  of  a  commanding  general.  The  whole  series 
of  measures  affecting  the  currency — the  exciting  episode  of 
the  French  difficulty — the  South  Carolina  business — the 
distribution  of  the  proceeds  of  the  public  lands — the  collision 
with  the  Senate — Jackson's  triumph  over  it  by  the  passage 
of  the  expunging  resolutions ;  these  and  other  measures, 
coming  in  quick  succession,  occupied  the  public  mind,  and 
furnished  fuel  for  continual  excitement. 

We  have  spoken  of  the  Compromise  and  of  the  agency 
of  Clay  in  effecting  that  momentous  measure,  upon  which 
hung  the  peace  and  the  integrity  of  the  nation.  This  agency 
was  most  important  to  his  character.  It  redeemed  him 


THE    WHIG    PARTY.  341 

from  the  old  charge,  in  the  estimation  of  those  who  had 
been  most  active  and  influential  in  urging  it  against  him. 
It  made  him  friends  in  a  quarter  where,  before,  he  had  only 
enemies.  It  presented  him  before  the  whole  nation  in  an 
aspect  at  once  of  power  and  of  goodness ;  as  a  magnanimous 
man  and  a  public  benefactor ;  and  it  prepared  the  way  for  a 
co-operation  with  thosej  who  were  to  be,  afterwards,  his  most 
efficient  allies.  The  removal  of  the  deposits  furnished  an 
occasion,  which  was  ably  improved,  for  one  of  those  lofty  and 
impassioned  appeals  to  the  hearts  of  his  countrymen,  which, 
better  than  any  other  of  his  countrymen,  he  could  make.  ' 

Affairs  had  now  changed.  The  re-action  of  Gen.  Jack- 
son's popularity  in  particular  sections,  and,  to  some  extent, 
over  the  whole  Union,  created  a  corresponding  re-action  in 
favor  of  Clay.  A  new  generation  of  statesmen  and  voters 
was  springing  up.  The  young  and  enthusiastic,  such  poten- 
tial allies  in  a  political  contest,  caught  the  contagion  of  the 
spirit  of  opposition  to  usurpation  and  tyranny,  as  it  was  call- 
ed, which  the  fervid  genius  of  Clay  evoked.  The  great  in- 
tellects of  the  nation,  whose  eloquence  has  now  become  clas- 
sic, were  co-operating  in  the  Senate  and  the  Lower  House, 
and  lending  the  aid  of  their  various  and  powerful  abilities  to 
the  cause  of  opposition.  The  WHIG  PARTY  began  to  be  or- 
ganized. It  had  the  major  part  of  the  intellect  on  its  side. 
It  called  that  intellect,  wherever  it  could  do  so,  into  the 
public  service.  The  public  councils  of  the  nation  exhibited 
more  of  talent  than  they  had  ever  known  before.  The  great 
age  of  eloquence  had  come.  In  the  Senate  alone,  a  profound 


342  JACKSON    AND    CLAY. 

and  various  ability  was  found,  such  as,  at  any  other  post- 
revolutionary  period,  all  the  departments  of  the  government 
together  could  not  muster. 

In  the  House,  Clay  had  a  brilliant  staff,  young,  fire-eyed 
enthusiasts,  bold,  daring,  resolute,  charging  the  very  heights 
of  power,  and  eager  for  the  fray  with  the  enemy.  The  com- 
mercial interest,  the  old  manufacturing  interest,  the  State- 
Rights  party,  the  conservative  interest,  the  old-fogy  anti- 
military  party,  were  now  banded  together ;  and,  to  give 
greater  volume  to  the  stream,  that  section  of  the  original 
friends  of  Jackson,  who  desired  the  election  of  Judge  White 
to  the  Presidency,  instead  of  Mr.  Van  Buren,  the  presidential 
favorite,  united  with  the  opposition.  Such  a  combination 
would  seem  to  be  invincible ;  but  it  was  not.  The  oppo 
sition  divided,  and  Jacksonism,  rallying  as  Gen.  Jackson 
would  have  rallied  in  the  field  to  charge  the  opening  ranks  of 
an  enemy,  carried  the  day.  Gen.  Jackson's  career  closed 
"  in  triumph  over  all  his  enemies,"  and  he  threw  his  mantle, 
as  he  retired,  upon  the  shoulders  of  his  lieutenant.  His 
sun  set  grand  and  lurid,  but  with  the  dun,  ominous  aspect 
that  betokens  a  coming  storm. 

But  the  election  of  1836,  showed  the  opposition  its  un- 
derrated strength,  and  rescued  the  struggle  with  the  revived 
hopes  of  the  assailants.  In  the  mean  time,  the  clouds  had 
thickened,  and  the  terrible  storm  which  seemed  to  be  waiting 
only  for  the  old  thunderer  to  retire,  began  to  blow  upon 
the  country  like  a  tropical  hurricane.  No  such  period  as 
that  awful  one  of  monetary  panic  and  commercial  disaster 


MARTIN   VAN    BUREN.  343 

had  ever  before  visited  the  nation.  Scarcely  yet  recovered 
from  its  effects,  we  remember  it  with  the  vivid  recollection 
of  a  fresh  and  horrible  catastrophe. 

Mr.  Van  Buren  was  inaugurated  just  as  the  embarrass- 
ments of  the  country  were  beginning  to  be  felt  in  their  first 
spasms  of  acute  distress.  The  little  Sybarite,  looking  out 
from  the  terrace  of  the  White  House,  "  perfumed  like  a  mil- 
liner," saw  trees  dancing  on  their  heads,  and  the  air  filled 
with  missiles,  and  the  waves  rising  mountain-high,  and  heard 
the  whistle  of  the  tornado,  and  felt  the  ground  rocking  like 
an  earthquake  all  around  him.  It  were  a  curious  thing  to 
have  seen  how  the  old  chief  would  have  met  this  great  crisis. 
Could  he  have  weathered  the  storm,  the  achievement  would 
have  been  the  brightest  illustration  of  his  genius.  What 
course  he  would  have  taken,  we  cannot  know ;  but  we  know 
what  he  would  not  have  done.  He  would  not  have  con- 
tented himself  with  holding  on  by  one  hand  and  fending  off 
with  the  other. 

The  administration  of  Van  Buren  was  a  long  stag- 
ger and  a  fall.  Its  enemies  pushed  on  their  batteries 
against  the  citadel ;  they  sat  down  before  it ;  they  cut  off 
his  supplies ;  they  dug  a  trench  around  him  and  battered 
down  his  walls.  The  campaign  of  1840  opened,  and  it  was 
obvious  to  all  calm  observers  that  the  chances  were  greatly 
in  favor  of  the  opposition.  The  Harrisburg  Convention  met. 
The  country  had  unequivocally  pronounced  in  favor  of 
Clay,  and  it  was  supposed  that  the  only  purpose  of  the  Con- 
vention was  to  announce  the  popular  decision.  Clay 


344  JACKSON    AND    CLAY. 

evidently  expected  the  nomination  ;  and  his  friends  congra 
tulated  themselves  that  the  long-delayed  hour  of  his  triumph 
had  come.  Contrary  to  all  expectation,  the  nomination  of 
the  politicians  fell  upon  another — Gen.  Harrison — a  good, 
brave,  kind-hearted  old  man,  but  whose  whole  brains  could 
have  been  hid  under  Clay's  bump  of  comparison. 

If  Clay  felt  the  disappointment,  he  did  not  show  it.  His 
voice  was  the  first  heard  in  ratification.  The  nomination 
seemed  at  first  to  shock  the  public  mind ;  but  it  was  only 
the  shock  of  the  rail-car  as  it  starts  on  its  rushing  course. 
Clay  took  the  field  for  his  rival.  The  people  rose  almost 
en  masse.  The  whole  country  was  divided,  as  if  in  civil 
war,  into  hostile  factions.  Banners  flouted  the  sky  ;  the  air 
rang  with  acclamations ;  the  people  met  in  armies ;  the  pur- 
suits of  business  were  neglected  for  the  strife  and  strivings 
of  political  canvassing ;  and  an  excitement  careered  over 
the  land,  which,  in  any  other  country,  would  have  drenched 
it  in  blood,  and  upheaved  the  government  from  its  founda- 
tion stones.  Tennessee  was  wrested  from  the  spell  of  Jack- 
sonism  ;  and,  at  Nashville,  a  multitude,  which  no  man  might 
number,  composed  of  the  old  enemies  of  Clay,  hung  upon 
his  accents,  and,  as  he  denounced  the  principles  and  mea- 
sures of  Jacksonism,  rent  the-air  with  thunder-shouts  of  ap- 
plause, which  invaded  even  the  peace  of  the  Hermitage.  So 
near  came  the  old  rivals,  that  they  hurled  upon  each  other 
scorn  and  crimination.  The  result  we  know.  Harrison 
came  into  office  upon  a  sea-tide  of  popularity.  A  month 
passed.  He  died  and  was  succeeded.  The  funeral  meats 


DEFEAT  OF  CLAY  AND  THE  WHIGS.         345 

furnished  forth  the  banquet  of  the  enemy.     The  Whig  po- 
licy was   defeated  by  the  veto  of  its  own  President,  and 
Whig  spirit   and   Whig   principles   were   paralyzed.     This 
was   the   bitterest   cup  Clay  ever   drained.      Yet   he   did 
not  despond.     He  rallied  and  cheered  his    broken  forces. 
He  bore  himself  as  loftily  as  ever — 'nay,  more  loftily.     The 
party,    though   shorn    of  much   of  its   strength,   was    still 
powerful.     It  had  still  the  capacity  to  win  another  victory 
on  old  issues.     It  met  in  convention,  and,  this  time,  it  made 
sure  of  its  man.     The  cowardly  policy  of  indirection  and 
conciliation  was  discarded.     The  real  leader  was  put  at  the 
head  of  the  army.     The  Democratic  party,  with  its  wonder- 
ful recuperative  energies,  was  reanimated  and  resuscitated, 
and  already  in  the  field  panting  for  an  opportunity  of  aveng- 
ing its  late  defeat.     The  Democratic  people  had  indicated 
a  preference  for  Van  Buren ;   but  the  opposition  to  him, 
arising  out  of  his  anti- Texas  opinions,  induced  the  managers 
to  throw  the  political  Jonah   overboard,  to  appease  the  rag- 
ing elements.     Another  was  nominated,  with  a  new  issue. 
And  all  men  felt  that  the  great  struggle,  for  life  or  death, 
was  now  to  be  fought  out  between  the  two  great  parties. 
The  battle  was  fought  with  a  resolution  worthy  of  the  stake. 
Clay  lost  it,  and,  with  the  old  leader,  went  down  the  distinc- 
tive principles  of  the  party  he  had  built  up,  sustained  and 
lived  for ;  and  the  last  hope  of  its  permanent  ascendency  was 
extinguished  for  ever. 

"Shortly  after  the  induction  of  the  new  administration, 
Jackson  died.     He  died  at  peace  with  the  world,  in  which 


346  JACKSON    AND    CLAY. 

he  had  been  so  prominent  an  actor,  forgiving  all  his  ene- 
mies, the  last  and  greatest  of  whom  was  his  early  rival ;  an 
act  of  Christian  grace,  tasking  his  renewed  temper,  as  he, 
declared,  to  its  most  difficult  exercise.  He  yielded  him  sub- 
missively to  the  only  foe  to  whom  he  had  ever  submitted, 
in  all  his  long  and  stormy  career.  The  grave  closed  over 
him,  as  over  meaner  victims,  and  he  rested,  at  a  patriarchal 
age,  from  his  heady  conflicts.  "  After  life's  fitful  fever  he 
sleeps  well,"  by  the  side  of  her  to  whom,  through  life,  in 
manhood  and  in  age,  and  for  whose  memory  after  her  death, 
through  all  the  tumultuous  scenes  and  stirring  exigencies 
of  his  eventful  career,  he  had  clung  with  a  fond  and  doting 
tenderness.  Earth  to  earth,  ashes  to  ashes,  is  the  universal 
and  inevitable  doom. 

Thus  passed  from  the  world  one  of  the  most  remarkable 
men,  who,  in  all  the  generations  of  mankind,  ever  made  his 
mark  upon  his  age.  It  is  vain  to  deny  to  Jackson  a  title 
to  greatness.  He  achieved  great  things,  and  won  a  succes- 
sion of  splendid  triumphs,  unequalled  in  the  history  of  any 
man,  save  one,  of  his  generation.  He  achieved  them,  not 
by  the  force  of  accident,  but  because  of  the  power  within 
him.  It  is  idle  to  discuss  the  ability  or  the  merits  of  a 
man,  who,  in  different,  and  these  the  highest,  departments 
Df  human  enterprise,  succeeds,  not  in  one  department  or 
in  one  measure,  but  in  all  departments  and  in  all  things 
throughout  a  long  succession  of  years  and  of  struggles, 
against  the  greatest  and  most  various  opposition.  Such  suc- 
cesses do  not  come  by  chance.  But  if  we  will  not  take  this 


JACKSON'S  ACHIEVEMENTS.  347 

general  conclusion,  let  us  look  to  particulars.  What  did  he 
accomplish  ?  He  raised  himself,  in  a  profession,  of  all 
others,  the  least  suited  to  his  genius,  at  a  time  of  life,  when 
men  of  real  merit  are  only  preparing  themselves  for  local 
distinction,  to  the  offices  of  Attorney- General  and  of  Judge  ; 
and  when  the  scene  changed  from  peace  to  war,  he  rose  at 
once  to  the  post  of  General,  and,  in  a  few  months,  won  the 
most  brilliant  successes  and  the  brightest  laurels  of  the  war, 
and  placed  himself  side  by  side  with  the  great  captains  of 
the  world.  He  took  his  seat  in  the  Senate  of  the  United 
States.  He  was  soon  the  strongest  candidate  before  the  peo- 
ple for  President,  bearing  the  palm  from  the  veteran  poli- 
ticians and  established  statesmen  of  the  country.  Defeated 
in  the  House  by  the  politicians,  he  turned  defeat  into  vic- 
tory, and  established  upon  it  a  sure  and  lasting  ascendency. 
He  was  lifted  by  the  strongest  tide  of  personal  popularity 
to  the  first  office  of  his  country,  and  held  power  against  an 
opposition  more  powerful  than  ever  before  assailed  an  admi- 
nistration. But  he  did  much  more  than  this.  He  impress- 
ed his  name  and  character  upon  the  country  more  deeply 
than  any  man,  the  father  of  his  country  only  excepted,  ever 
did  before  or  after  him.  He  gave  a  fresh  and  awakening 
influence  to  the  popular  mind,  threw  off  the  influence  of  old 
politicians,  and  started  the  government  and  the  people  on- 
ward in  a  new  and  more  impulsive  career.  He  opened  a  new 
era  in  American  politics,  with  new  measures,  new  ideas,  and 
new  statesmen.  He  founded  a  party,  more  perfect  in  its  orga- 
nization, and  more  lasting  in  its  influence,  than  any  before  es- 


348  JACKSON     AND    CLAY. 

tablished,  giving  its  own  line  of  statesmen,  and  its  own  course 
of  policy  to  the  country  ;  a  party  from  which  was  to  rise  a 
stronger  influence  upon  the  world,  and  the  indefinite  increase 
of  the  wealth,  territory,  and  population  of  the  Republic. 
He  consolidated  the  strength  and  energies  of  the  govern- 
ment ;  made  it  formidable,  feared,  and  respected  by  foreign 
powers ;  insomuch  that  he  addressed  the  head  of  the  second 
power  of  Europe,  with  the  imperious  tone  of  a  rich  creditor 
pursuing  a  bilking  bankrupt,  and  forced  him  to  a  settlement 
of  a  claim,  upon  an  open  threat  of  chastisement.  He  found 
a  confederacy — he  left  an  empire.  He  altered  the  monetary 
system  of  the  government — struck  down  the  Bank  of  the 
United  States — raised  up  and  sustained  the  State  Banks, 
and  finally  blew  them  up  as  so  many  torpedoes  ;  and,  for  a 
time,  nearly  abolished  the  whole  credit  system  of  a  great 
trading  people.  He  struck  down  the  doctrines  of  State 
Rights,  in  their  sanctions  and  substance,  and  in  their  strong- 
holds, and  with  them  the  flower  of  the  disciples  of  that 
school,  to  which  he  had,  in  great  part,  owed  his  elevation ; 
and  he  established  national  doctrines,  which  placed  the 
government  on  the  basis  vainly  contended  for  by  Wash- 
ington and  Marshall.  He  subdued  the  Senate.  He  placed 
his  rejected  minister  at  its  head.  It  rebuked  his  course. 
He  made  it  draw  black  lines  around  its  records.  And 
he  raised  up  another  president,  if  not  two,  to  rule  after 
him;  and  continued  after  his  retirement,  and  to  the  close 
of  his  life,  the  ruling  spirit  of  his  own  party.  This  he 
did  without  the  aid  of  the  politicians ;  for  he  needed  no 


JACKSON    AND    CALHOUN.  349 

conduit  between  himself  and  the  people.  He  operated  directly 
upon  the  public  mind.  Indeed,  the  most  popular  man  of  his 
followers  held  his  popularity  on  the  tenure  of  his  will. 
Desertion  of  him  and  his  cause  was  popular  ostracism.  If 
he  were  powerful  enough  to  raise  up  whom  he  chose,  he  was 
powerful  enough  to  put  down  whom  he  chose.  His  name 
and  his  influence  were  as  pervasive  as  the  atmosphere.  It 
fixed  the  selection  and  promotion  of  the  cabinet  minister 
even  of  the  President,  and  also  of  the  lowest  official  of  an 
obscure  municipality. 

Calhoun  was  sitting  upon  the  comfortable  perch  of 
the  Vice- Presidency,  thinking  no  harm,  evidently  quite  con- 
tent  with  the  prospect  before  him.  It  was  seemingly  a  good 
time  for  him.  His  foible  was  not  supposed  to  be  a  criminal 
indifference,  much  less  an  unconquerable  aversion,  to  the 
high  posts  of  the  public  service.  He  was  young,  just  reach- 
ing the  meridian  glory  of  faculties  equal  to  the  discharge  of 
any  civic  duty  to  which  he  could  be  called.  He  had  already 
won  the  highest  distinction  ;  and  he  had  won  it  without 
calling  into  exercise  half  the  talent  he  possessed.  Jackson 
was  in  the-Jieyday  of  a  popularity  such  as  no  man  of  his 
country,  its  father  and  founder  only  excepted,  had  ever  held ; 
and  he  was  Jackson's  lieutenant ;  and  yet,  so  unexception- 
ably  had  he  borne  himself,  that  though  identified  with  the 
administration,  and  its  early  supporter,  he  had  given  no 
offence  to  the  opposition.  Indeed,  he  had  run  upon  its 
ticket,  too,  for  Vice  President.  State-Rights  doctrines  were 
in  the  ascendant,  and  the  Executive  countenance  shone 


350  JACKSON    AND    CLAY. 

kindly  upon  them  and  their  supporters.  The  long-sighted 
politicians  had  begun  to  look  upon  the  Vice  President  and 
fawn  around  him,  as  the  successor  !  Clay  was  under  the 
ban.  The  man  of  Braintree,  like  a  greater,  was  on  his 
ocean  rock.  Crawford  was  a  paralytic.  "Who  and  what 
stood  between  Calhoun  and  Dwight's  prediction,  or  rather  the 
fulfilment  of  it  ?  Serenely,  we  may  imagine  him,  gazing 
through  the  bow-window  of  the  Capitol,  up  towards  the 
building  at  the  other  end  of  the  avenue,  and  bethinking  him 
that  only  a  few  more  years,  with  all  the  accidents  which 
might  shorten  that  period  in  his  favor,  stood  between  him 
and  the  golden  guerdon  for  which  so  many  hearts  were  fever- 
ing. Jackson's  angry  stamp  disturbed  the  reverie,  and,  with 
that  stamp,  the  platform  fell  beneath  him,  and  he  dropped 
down  a  thousand  feet  into  the  political  charnel  house  below  ! 
Where  were  now  the  legions  of  friends  with  whom  his 
slightest  utterance  was  the  definition  of  a  proverb,  "  the  con- 
densed wisdom  of  a  nation  ?  " 

He  counted  them  at  break  of  day, 
But  wheii  the  sun  set,  where  were  they! 

The  man  who  offended  Jackson  was  doomed.  Like  a 
mighty  Nimrod,  he  threw  his  lariat  from  the  Capitol,  and 
throttled  and  brought  down  to  death  or  submission  the  most 
powerful  senators,  even  at  the  remotest  corners  of  the  Repub- 
lic. Talent,  and  genius,  and  learning,  and  eloquence,  and 
statesmanship  cordoned  themselves  around  him  in  strenuous 
warfare ;  but  his  single  arm,  like  Murat's  on  the  Mount  of 


JACKSON'S  NERVE.  351 

Transfiguration,  rolled  back  the  brilliant  charge  and  left  him 
still  unhurt — not  a  feather  of  his  plume  awry — and  in  pos- 
session of  the  heights  of  power. 

And,  finally,  according  to  T.  F.  Marshall,  when  he  was 
about  quitting  the  world,  he  turned  Presbyterian,  and 
trampled  Satan  under  foot,  the  last,  and  perhaps  the  great- 
est of  his  victories  ! 

It  may  well  be  doubted  if  the  records  of  ancient  or  of 
modern  times  exhibit  to  us  a  name,  more  distinguished  for 
sublime  and  unfaltering  courage,  than  that  of  Andrew  Jackson. 
He  never  seemed  to  rise  to,  but  ever  to  stand  level  with,  the 
loftiest  exigencies.  There  was  nothing  in  the  shape  of  dan- 
ger or  responsibility  which  he  feared  to  brave — not  to  meet 
merely,  but  to  go  in  quest  of — not  to  endure,  but  to  defy 
and  to  master.  He  was  chary  of  his  fame.  He  loved 
applause  ;  but  when  did  he  pause  in  the  execution  of  a  pur- 
pose to  count  its  cost  to  his  reputation  ?  Did  he  ever  falter 
when  the  chivalry  and  flower  of  his  early  and  later  support- 
ers deserted  his  banner  by  battalions  ?  If  any  thing  can 
appal  a  politician's  heart  or  stay  his  hand,  it  is  civil  war. 
But,  in  the  case  of  South  Carolina,  he  contemplated  that 
result  and  prepared  for  it,  with  the  coolness  and  determina- 
tion of  a  common-place  business  matter.  He  stood  forth  a 
peculiar  and  original  man,  in  the  great  attribute  of  conceiv- 
ing and  executing  purposes  and  plans,  from  the  very  contem- 
plation of  which  common-place  politicians  shrink  in  dismay. 

Yet  one  thing  this  great  man  lacked.  He  lacked  the 
crowning  virtue  of  magnanimity.  Generosity  towards  a  per- 


352  JACKSON    AND    CLAY. 

sonal  or  political  enemy,  and  charity  for  opposing  opinion, 
were  not  numbered  among  the  virtues  in  his  calendar.  We 
are  pained  to  be  forced  by  truth  to  say  that  the  hero's  char- 
acter, of  such  robust  and  stalwart  proportions,  and  vital 
with  such  massive  and  masculine  strength,  was  incomplete. 
Like  some  Gothic  tower,  dimly  seen  by  star-light,  it  leaves 
the  impression  of  power  akin  to  the  terrific  and  sublime ; 
but  wants  the  mild  and  softening  light  of  this  absent  grace 
to  make  it  lovely  to  the  contemplation  and  dear  to  the 
heart. 

We  turn  from  the  Man  of  Progress  to  the  Man  of 
Conservatism,  from  the  Man  of  War  to  the  Man  of 
Peace. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Clay  in  the  Senate—  His  Patriotic  Course—  Compromise  of  1850—  Analysis  of  Clay'a 
Character—  His  Eank  as  a  Statesman—  Compared  with  Calhoun  and  Webster— 
His  Death. 


THE  war  Tvith  Mexico  ended,  the  questions  to  which  it 
mediately  gave  rise  transferred  the  scene  of  contention  to 
our  own  country.  As  this  collision  was  coming  on  apace, 
an  opportunity  came  for  electing  a  Whig  President  ;  for  the 
New-  York  politician  held  one  of  the  arms  of  the  Democracy 
in  the  fight.  But  gunpowder  again  prevailed.  The  old  claims 
of  the  civilian  were  laid  aside  for  the  fresh  pretensions  of 
the  soldier.  The  old  trick  of  an  inexpedient  expediency  was 
revived,  and  the  last  chance  of  electing  Clay  to  the  Presi- 
dency thrown  away. 

But,  though  denied  the  first  office,  he  was  not  denied 
the  first  position,  in  the  country.  That  he  held  by  the  grace 
of  God,  and  without  the  leave  of  the  politicians.  Soon  was 
the  value  of  his  position  to  be  tested  ;  for  the  great  sectional 
contest,  awaiting  only  measures  of  practical  legislation  in 
regard  to  the  newly-acquired  territory,  now  broke  out  in  all 


354  JACKSON    AND    CLAY. 

its   fury.     The  danger  of  this  conflict  brought  Mr,   Clay 
from  his  retirement,  to  the  national  councils. 

He  occupied  now  his  true  and  natural  position.  He  was 
no  longer  a  candidate  for  the  first  office.  He  was  out  of  the 
dust  and  strife  of  the  arena.  He  was  not  an  object  of  pro- 
fitable assault  to  the  politicians.  Slander  might  well  afford 
to  intermit  its  labors  of  hatred,  and  prejudice  could  pause 
to  take  a  calmer  view  of  his  history  and  character.  It  is 
surprising  how  soon  the  old  calumnies  died  out ;  and  how 
soon  the  great  and  shining  attributes  of  the  illustrious 
patriot  caught  and  fixed  the  gaze  of  his  countrymen,  of  all 
sections  and  divisions,  however  before  alienated  from  him. 
The  truth  is,  that  Clay  was  hated  more  from  fear  than  from 
contempt,  or  rather,  there  could  be  no  such  thing  as  con- 
tempt or  scorn  for  such  a  man.  His  chivalrous  and  lofty 
carriage  made  men  respect,  even  while  they  hated  him.  His 
countrymen  were  always  secretly  proud  of  him,  and,  in  the 
great  crises  of  the  country,  felt  a  confidence  in  his  wisdom 
and  skilful  pilotage  which  they  felt  in  no  other.  He  came 
now  on  a  national  errand.  He  had  sunk  the  partisan. 
Modes  of  administration  were  a  small  question,  compared  to 
the  question  of  the  preservation  of  the  country.  The  mat- 
ter in  hand  now  was  no  less  an  issue  than  the  dismember- 
ment of  empire.  The  grave  difficulties,  which  stood  in  the 
way  of  a  settlement  of  the  sectional  disturbances  inflaming 
the  public  mind,  had  foiled  the  wisdom  of  all  who  had  essay- 
ed to  adjust  them.  They  seemed,  indeed,  to  be  impossible 
of  adjustment.  Fifteen  State  legislatures,  in  the  Free 


DOMESTIC    AFFAIRS   IN    1850.  355 

States,  had  instructed  their  representatives  to  insist  on  the 
"Wilraot  Proviso.  The  Slave  States,  with  equal  unanimity, 
had  declared  their  intention  to  resist  such  a  measure  as  an  act 
of  dissolution.  The  public  mind  had  become  deeply  excited. 
Sectional  parties  were  becoming  more  and  more  inflamed. 
Crimination  and  recrimination,  insult  and  obloquy,  gross 
personalities,  furious  invective,  scorn  and  defiance,  were 
the  staple  of  familiar  public  and  private  discourse.  The 
inherent  difficulties  of  the  question  were  even  more  formidable 
than  these  external  hindrances  to  its  settlement.  The  old 
half  healed,  half-covered  sore  of  the  slavery  question  was 
tortured  and  lacerated  again  by  the  rough  fanaticism  of  the 
North ;  and  the  South,  proud  and  sensitive,  as  of  old,  was 
goaded  to  the  last  point  of  patient  endurance.  The  patriot's 
heart  sank  within  him  at  the  prospect.  It  was  a  dark  time 
for  the  Eepublic — the  darker  because  a  desire  for  the  ad- 
justment of  these  fearful  questions  seemed  to  depart  with 
hope. 

At  this  juncture,  Henry  Clay  took  his  seat  in  the  Senate. 
His  very  presence  there  was  an  event  in  the  political  history 
of  the  country.  The  old  light  was  on  his  lofty  brow,  and  in 
his  eye  and  in  his  voice  were  the  fire  and  the  spell  which 
could  yet  save  his  country.  He  seemed,  in  view  of  the  new 
work  before  him,  to  breathe  another  youth.  With  the  wis- 
dom of  his  ripe  age,  he  seemed  to  have  caught  from  the  past 
the  vigor  and  the  prime  of  his  meridian  fire.  There  was 
patriotism  enough  in  the  country  to  save  it ;  but  it  was  a 
dormant  patriotism.  Clay  waked  it  up.  Clay  was  the  me- 


356  JACKSON    AND    CLAY. 

dium  that  poured  the  electric  current  of  the  people  upon  the 
politicians  and  the  public  councils.  Never  before  had  he 
fully  shown  himself  the  man  God  had  made  him.  For  fifty 
years,  he  had  never  found  a  rival  for  a  whole  session,  as  an 
orator  and  leader  in  a  deliberative  assembly ;  but  men  had 
compared  him  to  himself,  and  had  noted  how  far  he  was,  in 
this  speech  or  that,  from  his  high-water  mark  of  excellence. 
Now  he  was  above  himself — above  where  the  flood  of  his 
sweeping  and  surge-like  eloquence  had  ever  gone  before.  As 
a  mere  orator,  he  left  the  great  deeds  of  his  youth  and  mid- 
dle age  behind.  But  his  oratory  was  the  least  remarkable 
of  his  claims  to  attention  and  gratitude.  He  was  eloquent 
in  every  thing — instinct  with  eloquence,  as  if  possessed  by  its 
spirit — in  movement — in  manner — in  writing — in  speech — 
in  tone — above  all,  perhaps,  in  social  intercourse  transfusing 
himself  into  others  ;  now  in  the  closet,  now  at  the  mess  table, 
now  in  the  committee  room,  in  the  drive,  on  the  street,  every 
where — in  every  way. — seeking  no  repose — wanting  none — 
it  was  the  fever  and  fanaticism  of  soul  that  carried  him 
with  but  one  object  before  him — and  yet  that  fever  and  fa- 
naticism presided  over  by  a  judgment  and  a  tact  that  never 
forsook  and  never  misled  him. 

All  know  the  result.  All  know  how  he  passed  through 
the  long  agony  of  glory  and  of  triumph.  He  conquered  and 
the  Union  lived. 

Fate  awarded  him  ample  justice  at  the  last.  He  had 
linked  the  most  brilliant  passages  of  his  life  to  the  Union ; 
the  last  link  of  the  chain,  too,  he  threw  around  its  pillar. 


357 

His  eloquent  life  was  brought  to  its  peroration,  and  that  pe- 
roration was,  as  in  his  great  speeches,  the  most  beautiful,  the 
grandest,  the  most  eloquent  of  all  its  parts. 

He  could  retire  now.  Why  linger  "  superfluous  on  the 
stage  ?  "  His  sun,  trembling  on  the  verge  of  the  horizon, 
like  a  tropical  sun,  gorgeous,  yet  with  a  solemn  and  sacred 
aspect,  magnified  even  beyond  his  size  at  noon,  might  now  go 
down  without  a  cloud  or  shadow,  lighting  up  all  the  sky 
around  with  rays  of  marvellous  glory  long  after  he  had  set ! 

It  is  charged  upon  Clay  that  he  was  overbearing  and 
imperious,  impatient  of  contradiction  and  opposition,  defiant 
of  his  enemies  and  exacting  towards  his  friends.  He  was 
called  a  dictator.  We  wish  we  could  deny  this  charge. 
But  we  cannot.  There  is  too  much  truth  in  it.  Clay  was 
constitutionally  combative  and  aggressive.  He  had  the  go-a- 
head faculties  in  a  morbid  state  of  activity,  both  because 
they  were  large  naturally,  and  because  they  were  continually 
exercised.  He  was  fond  of  victory  for  its  own  sake.  His 
temper  was  high,  hot  and  eager ;  his  impulses  quick  and 
strong  ;  his  self-confidence  supreme ;  and  his  courage  stub- 
born and  invincible.  The  early  part  of  his  career  had  been 
a  succession  of  triumphs,  often  where  success  is  won,  as  in 
ancient  warfare,  by  hand-to-hand  conflicts,  for  immediate  re- 
sults, and  against  emulous  and  bitter  opposition.  The 
rough  school  of  the  frontier,  with  men  struggling  for  posi 
tion  and  leadership, — to  impress  themselves  upon  the  fluent 
mass  of  opinion,  and  to  mould  that  opinion  into  policy — that 
wild  and  untempered  society  of  young  Kentucky,  where  the 


358  JACKSON    AND    CLAY. 

strongest  will  and  the  boldest  bearing  were  even  more  essen- 
tial to  success  than  the  most  vigorous  and  the  best  cultured 
intellect,  made  an  impression  upon  his  character  which  sub- 
sequent experiences  only  confirmed.  The  qualities  which 
give  a  man  what  is  called  common-sense — the  knowing,  ob- 
serving, perceptive  faculties,  gave  his  mind  a  practical  turn 
denied  to  most  orators  ;  for  Clay's  business  capacity,  in 
every  department  of  affairs,  public  or  private — his  memory, 
system,  order,  the  facility  with  which  he  saw  what  was  to  be 
done,  and  how  it  was  to  be  done,  and  the  energy  with  which 
he  did  it,  were,  taken  together,  unequalled ;  and  this  practi- 
cal turn  made  him  more  solicitous  of  results  than  fastidious 
of  means,  provided  they  were  effectual.  As  a  captain,  there 
is  no  pre-scribing  what,  under  favoring  circumstances,  would 
have  been  either  the  measure  of  his  abilities  or  the  measure 
of  his  success.  There  was  no  more — and  scarcely,  if  any, 
less — of  the  bull-dog  hardihood  and  resolution  of  McDonald 
in  him,  than  in  Jackson  ;  but  there  was  more  of  the  out-com- 
ing, transfusing  enthusiasm,  and  the  show  and  brilliancy  of 
Murat.  We  can  imagine  tjie  effect  of  the  tall  figure  and 
homely  but  expressive  features,  which  identified  him  to  the 
stranger  among  a  thousand  eminent  men,  in  the  thick  of  the 
fight,  at  the  front  of  a  charging  column,  or  beneath  the 
banner  shaking  over  his  head,  throwing  back  in  defiant 
impatience  the  lock  of  hair  that  was  wont  to  fall  over  his 
brow,  and  which,  when  in  the  full  tide  of  invective,  he  had  a 
trick  of  tossing  up,  like  the  lion  shaking  his  mane,  as  Cal- 
houn  described  it — we  can  imagine  the  effect  of  such  a  figure 


359 

and  face,  when,  loaded  like  a  battery  with  enthusiasm  and 
energy,  his  unrivalled  voice  rang  out  a  charge,  or  inspirited 
cowardice  into  heroism  as  a  standard  wavered  before  the  hot 
pressure  of  the  enemy. 

With  these  high  military  qualities,  he  united  the  military 
fault  of  being  dictatorial.  His  temper  was  usually  sweet, 
his  animal  spirits  high,  his  disposition  kind  and  generous. 
This  was  his  sunny  side.  This  was  "  Caesar  in  his  tent  that 
day  he  overcame  the  Nervii."  But  Caesar  in  the  field 
against  the  Nervii,  was  a  different  man.  Clay's  resent- 
ments sometimes  carried  him  into  coarse  vituperation — 
sometimes  into  injustice ;  and,  it  must  be  confessed  that  he 
showed  less  forbearance  towards  his  party  friends  or  asso- 
ciates, temporary  or  general,  than  towards  his  regular  party 
opponents ;  for  example,  than  towards  Wright,  Buchanan 
and  Forsyth.  In  this  way,  he  injured  himself,  and  he  in- 
jured the  Whig  party.  He  had  always  the  power  of  carrying 
a  great  many  persons,  indeed,  the  large  majority  of  his  own 
party  with  him,  in  such  attacks,  and  they  left  a  sting  which 
was  not  Removed  by  the  reconciliation  that  evaporated  all 
bitterness  from  his  own  mind  ;  for  the  assailed  felt  injured 
by  the  assault,  and  usually  had  the  worst  of  the  engagement. 
That  Clay  struggled  with  this  temper,  and  honestly  endeavored 
to  overcome  it,  and  towards  the  last  of  his  life,  in  some  degree 
succeeded,  must  be  granted  him  ;  and  he  seems,  in  his  serene 
moments,  to  have  felicitated  himself  on  the  happy  facility 
of  his  temper,  and  the  amiable  meekness  of  his  nature — as 
Sir  Anthony  Absolute  had  done  before  him ;  but  when  the 


360  JACKSON    AND    CLAY. 

lists  opened,  and  the  bugles  sounded,  the  spirit  which  they 
aroused  was  something  short  of  evangelical.  He  gave,  with 
much  better  grace  than  he  took,  the  railleries,  sarcasms  and 
covert  allusions  licensed  by  debate ;  by  which  the  malign 
spirit  is  draped,  though  not  disguised,  in  the  robes  and  gauze 
of  rhetorical  and  complimentary  phrase,  and  bitter  things  are 
said  in  sweet  words.  Nothing  could  be  more  delightful 
than  the  humorous  displays  of  the  ridiculous  positions  of  his 
adversaries,  or  the  sly,  ironical  cuts,  he  sometimes  gave, 
in  the  shape  of  congratulations  over  their  discomfitures. 
Some  of  the  most  successful  parliamentary  hits  ever  made 
were  his,  and  of  this  sort.  For  example,  the  imaginary  scene 
at  the  White  House  after  Mr.  Tyler's  vetoes.  But,  it  must 
be  confessed,  that,  when  the  hits  came  from  the  other  side, 
he  either  could  not  usually  see  the  fun  of  the  thing,  or,  if  he 
did,  he  sometimes  rudely  disturbed  it,  by  a  withering  sneer 
or  the  cut  direct. 

But  this  can  be  truly  said  :  He  was  incapable  of  malig- 
nity :  "  He  bore  resentment  as  the  flint  bears  fire."  He 
was  free  to  repair  with  grace,  and  without  stint  or  reserva- 
tion, the  injustice  which  he  wrought  in  haste.  He  was  as 
placable  when  cool,  as  he  was  fierce  when  hot ;  and  when  he 
became  reconciled,  his  memory  retained  no  trace  of  the  past 
provocation.  His  intolerance,  too,  was  mostly  of  the  qua- 
lities and  conduct  alien  from  his  sympathies,  because  alien 
from  his  nature.  Bold,  straightforward  and  fearless,  he  could 
not  well  brook  an  opposition  which  came  from  caution,  fear 
or  time-serving ;  and,  as  is  usual  with  such  men,  he  some- 


36i 

times  put  to  the  account  of  fear  and  time-serving,  what  was 
only  the  fruit  of  prudence. 

He  took  his. ground,  for  the  most  part,  with  judgment ; 
always  from  conscientious  conviction ;  and  he  was  strongly 
wedded  to  his  favorite  projects;  hence  he  was  restive 
under  an  opposition  which,  in  his  view,  was  opposition  at 
once  to  himself  and  to  the  public  interests. 

Clay  has  been  charged  with  ultraism  in  politics.  This 
imputation  has  been  warmly  denied  by  his  friends,  who  point 
to  his  concessions  and  compromises  as  proofs  of  a  contrary 
character.  But  neither  the  charge  nor  the  denial  represents 
the  whole  truth.  He  was  not  an  extremist  in  the  selection 
of  his  ground;  he  was  ultra  in  maintaining  it.  But  his 
firmness  did  not  run  into  obstinacy,  even  when  he  had  taken 
his  position.  He  abandoned  a  measure  when  hopeless,  or 
when  its  maintenance  plainly  involved  greater  evils  than  its 
loss.  He  could  conciliate  and  concede  down  to  a  particular 
point ;  but  beyond  that  point  he  could  not  easily  be  induced  to 
go.  He  clung  with  remarkable  pertinacity  to  the  principle 
of  a  measure  ;  but  he  was  not  a  stickler  for  forms  ;  and 
modes  were  so.  far  indifferent  to  him,  that  he  willingly 
agreed,  perhaps  preferred  from  policy,  to  surrender  them  to 
the  opinions  of  others.  It  was  the  zeal  and  indomitable  per- 
severance which  he  put  forward  in  support  of  a  measure, 
which  men  mistook  for  a  constitutional  proneness  to  ex- 
tremes ;  not  marking  the  difference  between  an  extreme 
zeal  for  a  thing,  and  zeal  for  an  extreme  thing.  He  had  to 
struggle  between  opposite  forces,  flis  physical  tempera- 
16 


362  JACKSON    AND     CLAY. 

ment  was  highly  impulsive ;  his  moral  temper  was  conserva- 
tive ;  but  his  mind  was  eminently  practical ;  and  it  took  the 
conservative  side  in  his  measures,  while  his  physical  energies 
drove  them  forward  with  all  the  vigor  and  steam-power  of 
Young  America. 

It  seems  to  be  forgotten,  too,  that  Clay  was  the  recognized 
leader  and  exponent  of  a  large  and  powerful  party ;  and 
what  in  another  man  would  seem  officious  dictation,  would, 
in  such  a  leader,  be  not  only  proper,  but  even  indispensable. 
A  party  to  be  effective  must  have  organization.  To  have 
organization,  there  must  be  executive  power  in  the  party, 
even  if  out  of  power,  answering  in  some  degree  to  the  official 
power  of  the  party  it  opposes.  Upon  Clay  was  thrown  this 
executive  power.  There  must  be  yielding  and  concession, 
it  is  true,  to  keep  up  party  integrity  ;  but  this  concession 
certainly  had  as  well  come  from  individual  members  as  from 
the  head,  whom,  it  cannot  be  doubted,  carried  with  him  the 
confidence  and  the  suffrages  of  the  vast  majority.  Those  of 
the  Whigs  who  accuse  Clay  of  dictation  and  ultraism,  ought 
therefore  to  reflect  that  the  same  charge  might  be  re- 
torted upon  the  minority  who  opposed  him  with  nearly  as 
much  force  as  it  could  be  made  against  him  who  represented 
the  mass  of  the  party. 

Great  injustice  has  been  done  Clay,  by  instituting  com- 
parisons between  a  single  faculty  or  a  few  faculties  of  his  in- 
tellect, and  a  single  or  a  few  faculties  of  his  illustrious  con- 
temporaries ;  and  by  a  general  deduction  of  his  inferiority 
to  them,  drawn  from  this  comparison.  It  might  be  safely 


CLAY,    CALHOUN   AND    WEBSTER.  363 

P 

admitted  that  Clay  did  not  possess  the  wonderful  analysis  of 
Calhoun — that  incarnation  of  logic.  It  might,  also,  be  con- 
ceded, that  he  had  no  claim  to  the  Miltonic  grandeur  of 
imagination,  the  classic  erudition,  the  artistic  skill  in  words, 
and  the  comprehensive  and  lucid  statement  of  Webster.  Not 
only  Clay's  intellect,  but  his  whole  organization  depends  for 
its  just  appreciation  upon  a  view  of  it  as  a  whole.  It  is 
remarkable  for  the  harmonious  proportions,  and  the  large, 
though  equable,  developments  of  all  the  parts.  If,  by  no 
one  faculty,  standing  alone,  would  he  have  been  greatly  dis- 
tinguished, yet  in  no  one  faculty  was  he  less  than  remark- 
able ;  while  the  whole  made  up  a  complement  of  distinction 
and  power  denied,  as  we  think,  to  any  other  man  of  his  time. 
Reflect,  how  rare  it  is  to  find  concentered  in  one  man  all  the 
qualities  of  mind,  of  body,  of  temperament,  which  make  a 
successful  manager  in  war-times,  and  in  those  crises  of  af- 
fairs in  peace,  requiring  the  highest  faculties  of  the  cap- 
tain. Reflect,  how  few  of  his  contemporaries  could,  on  any 
one  prominent  occasion,  have  supplied  his  place.  Consider, 
how  few  men  have  the  qualities  which  preserve  the  confidence 
of  a  party  for  years — how  few  could  have  held  the  undis- 
puted leadership  of  a  furious  opposition  for  nearly  a  genera- 
tion. Who  else  has  ever  done  it  ?  Consider,  that  with 
these  qualities  were  blended  a  business  capacity  and  know- 
ledge of  detail,  which  qualified  him  for  success  in  every  de- 
partment of  practical  affairs.  Consider,  that  he  showed  a 
genius  for  diplomacy  inferior  to  that  of  no  man  of  the  age  ; 
for  his  settlement  of  the  sectional  questions  when  they  seemed 


364  JACKSON   AND    CLAY. 

* 

impossible  of  adjustment,  called  for  as  high  diplomatic 
ability  as  the  treaties  he  negotiated.  Consider  that,  as  a 
jurist,  notwithstanding  the  small  attention  he  paid  to  the 
practice  and  study  of  law,  he  rose  to  the  first  rank  at  the 
eminent  bar  of  his  own  state ;  and,  that,  as  an  advocate,  he 
had  no  peer  in  courts,  where  the  most  brilliant  and  eloquent 
orators  of  the  country  pleaded.  Consider,  too,  that  he  led 
the  policy  of  the  country  in  every  great  measure  from 
Madison,  indeed,  from  the  last  Congress  of  Jefferson's  ad- 
ministration, until  he  met  the  man  of  his  destiny  in  Andrew 
Jackson ;  that  in  Democratic  Congresses,  he  carried  almost 
every  one  of  his  leading  measures,  and  was  only  defeated  by 
the  vetoes  of  the  President  from  fixing  upon  the  country 
almost  the  whole  line  of  his  policy — a  policy  so  broad  as  to 
have  embraced  nearly  the  whole  scheme  of  Federal  adminis- 
tration. If  we  look  at  his  measures,  we  find  schemes  so 
large — systems  so  broad — as  to  belong  only  to  minds  the 
most  capacious ;  and,  besides  them,  we  see  faculties  of  ad- 
ministration so  extended  as  to  embrace  the  fullest  details  of 
the  bureau  or  the  farm.  No  man  ever  had  a  busier  invention 
in  moulding  measures,  or  a  more  active  enterprise  in  prose- 
cuting his  purposes.  And,  when  we  add,  that,  for  thirty 
years,  a  greater  body  of  intellect  looked  up  to  him  in  reverence 
or  followed  him  with  unhesitating  confidence,  than  any  man 
of  his  age  attracted  ;  that  those  who  knew  him  longest  were 
those  who  appreciated  him  the  most  highly ;  that  senators 
and  judges  applauded  him  as  loudly  as  the  village  zealots  of 
his  party  at  the  clubs ;  and  that  generation  after  generation 


CLAY'S  POSITION  AS  A  STATESMAN.  365 

o/  statesmen  found  him  and  left  him  at  the  post  of  unques- 
tioned national  leadership — at  the  first  post  of  effective  in- 
fluence on  all  questions,  which,  for  the  time,  sank  the  clamor's, 
and  disbanded  the  organization  of  party ; — we  begin  to  realize 
the  error,  which  would  degrade  the  intellect  of  such  a  man, 
from  the  highest  class  of  the  gifted  sons  of  genius  God  has 
ever  given  to  the  earth.  In  the  multiplicity  of  his  accom- 
plishments, in  the  versatility  of  his  powers,  in  the  grandeur 
of  his  schemes,  in  the  strength  of  his  intellect,  in  the  lofti- 
ness and  range  of  his  ambition,  in  his  sway  over  the  intelli- 
gence of  his  country,  and  in  the  monumental  measures  of  his 
policy,  Alexander  Hamilton,  alone  of  his  countrymen,  ap- 
proaches him. 

But  the  most  conclusive  proof  of  his  superiority  is  to  be 
found  in  the  fact,  that  whenever  the  country  was  in  immi- 
nent danger,  and  could  find  extrication  only  in  extraordinary 
resources  and  wisdom,  the  public  expectation  turned  to 
Henry  Clay,  as  its  deliverer ;  and  the  discord  and  prejudice 
of  party  and  of  section  hushed  their  clamors  to  hear  and 
obey  his  "?oice ;  just  as,  amidst  the  terrors  of  a  storm,  the 
instinct  of  the  passengers  points  to  the  strong  and  able  man 
of  the  ship  for  safety. 

His  personal  courage  was  of  that  daring  type,  which, 
in  Bonaparte's  army,  would  have  raised  him  from  the  ranks 
to  a  marshal  of  the  empire ;  and  it  supported  a  moral 
courage  of  like  robustness  and  enterprise.  His  emotional 
nature  was  powerful  and  easily  excited ;  and  he  owed 
to  his  strong  sensibilities  a  great  portion  of  that  popular 


366  JACKSON    AND    CLAY. 

eloquence,  which  never  failed  to  bring  the  crowd  in  subjec- 
tion to  his  appeals.  His  veracity  was  as  unquestioned  as  his 
independence.  No  man  was  more  scrupulous  or  more  accu- 
rate of  statement.  Powerful  as  were  his  passions,  they 
seldom  betrayed  him  into  error.  His  judgment  seemed 
cool,  even  when  his  temper  and  imagination  were  aflame ; 
and  his  off-hand  speeches  were  not  only  full  of  fire  and  elo 
quence,  but  they  were  usually  as  replete  with  tact  and  address. 

A  critical  examination  of  his  speeches,  although  they 
were  not  equal  to  his  fame  as  an  orator,  yet  discovers  an 
ability,  a  skill  of  argumentation,  a  breadth  of  comprehen- 
sion, a  fulness  of  information,  and  a  power  of  vigorous,  sus- 
tained reasoning,  abstract  and  practical,  which  entitle  them 
to  a  high  place  in  this  sort  of  literature.  It  is  true  that  he 
left  no  speech  equal  to  Webster's  reply  to  Hayne  ;  nor  has 
any  one  else..  Webster  himself  has  not  done  it.  He  is  said 
to  have  considered  his  speech  of  the  7th  March,  1850,  as  its 
superior;  but  the  world  will  not  think  so.  After  that 
speech  shall  have  been  forgotten,  the  little  boys  of  Patagfc- 
nia,  then  annexed,  will  be  making  the  walls  of  the  school- 
houses  ring  with — "  When  my  eyes  shall  be  turned  to  behold 
for  the  last  time,  the  sun  in  heaven,  may  I  not  see  him 
shining  on  the  broken  and  dishonored  fragments  of  a  once 
glorious  Union,"  &c.  . 

It  has  been  said  that  the  speeches  and  writings  of  Web- 
ster will  live  long  after  Clay's  shall  have  perished.  This  is 
probably  true ;  but  it  does  not  follow  from  this  that  Web- 
ster was  the  greater  man,  or  that  he  will  descend  with  more 


CLAY'S  SUPERIORITY.  367 

honor  to  posterity.  The  evidence  of  his  greatness  in  ont 
province  of  mind  will  be  better  preserved ;  but  the  great- 
ness itself  may  not  be  relatively  magnified.  Patrick  Henry 
has  left  scarcely  a  memorial  of  his  genius,  yet,  his  fame  to- 
day is  wider,  and  its  lustre  as  fresh,  as  when  he  died. 
Clay's  claims  to  fame  are  not  in  his  printed  speeches.  They 
are  in  his  measures,  which  are  deeds,  and  in  his  acts,  which 
are  monuments ;  and  Clay's  deeds  will  outlive  Webster's 
words.  Clay  projected  his  character  upon  the  imaginations 
•and  hearts  of  his  generation  ;  and  it  was  there  imprinted  in 
the  strong  colors  of  the  sublime  and  the  heroic  ;  and  such  an 
impression  descends  through  tradition  upon  succeeding  ages. 
It  is  in  this  way,  and  not  through  their  writings,  that  most 
of  the  great  personages  of  ancient  and  modern  story  are  to 
us  living  realities. 

This  character  will  be  estimated  by  a  higher  standard 
than  a  cold  calculation  of  how  much  of  the  dry  light  of 
intellect  was  in  the  brain,  or  of  the  size  of  the  organs  of 
causality  and  comparison  as  measured  with  those  of  two  il- 
lustrious contemporaries.  It  will  be  estimated  in  its  triple 
development  of  the  physical,  moral,  and  intellectual ;  in 
its  completeness,  harmony  and  integrity ;  by  what  it  was 
capable  of  accomplishing,  and  by  what  it  did  actually  accom- 
plish ;  by  its.  influence  upon  the  spirit  of  its  age,  and  upon 
the  intellect,  not  of  this  locality  or  that,  but  of  the  whole 
country.  And  we  think  the  judgment  of  posterity  will  be 
in  favor  of  the  intellect,  possessing  the  faculty  of  construct- 
ing great  measures  and  schemes  of  statesmanship,  and  of 


368  JACKSON    AND     CLAY. 

those  great  executive  energies  which  carried  them  into  ex- 
ecution. 

And  thou  art  gone  from  our  midst,  gallant  Harry  Clay  ! 
and  the  world  seems  drearier  than  before  !  Who  thinks  of 
thee  as  of  an  old  man  gradually  going  out  of  life  by  wast- 
ing and  decay ;  as  one,  who,  in  the  eclipse  or  helplessness 
of  physical  and  mental  energies,  sinks  to  his  last  sleep  and 
rest?  No!  thou  seemest  ever  young;  ever  buoyant  with* 
a  vigorous  and  impulsive  manhood  ;  vital  with  irrepr-essible 
energies,  and  glowing  with  Life  and  Hope  and  Love  ;  as  if 
all  noble  feelings  and  all  lofty  thoughts  were  busy  in  thy 
heart  and  brain,  claiming  from  lips  and  eyes  eloquent  utter- 
ance. We  could  bear  to  hear  of  thy  dying  thus,  though 
with  many  a  sharp  pang  of  sorrow,  and  many  a  thought  of 
sadness  mingled  with  pride  and  love.  But  what  friend  of 
thine  could  bear  to  contemplate  thee  living — yet  receding 
from  life ;  the  noble  form  bowed  down ;  the  lofty  crest 
palsied  and  lowered ;  the  glorious  intellect  passing  into 
thick-coming  darkness,  and  bursting  only  in  fitful  blaze, 
if  ever,  into  the  life  and  light  of  thy  old  eloquence ;  the 
buoyant  step  now  halting  on  the  crutches  of  senility; 
words,  peevish  and  garrulous,  profaning  the  tongue  that 
once  held  senates  in  transported  audience  ;  and  rayless  and 
vacant  now,  the  bold  and  glittering  eye,  that  awed  and  com- 
manded strong  men  like  a  king  1  Who  could  have  borne  to 
see  thee  the  wreck  of  thy  former  self,  nothing  remaining 
but  the  contrast  of  present  nothingness  with  past  grandeur 
and  glory !  We  were  spared  that  spectacle ;  for  it  was 


CLAY'S  DEATH.  369 

mercifully  granted  to  thy  prayers  to  spring  out  of  mortal 
life  at  once,  with  unwasted  energies,  into  the  blaze  of  im- 
mortality ! 

Why  pursue  further  the  theme  ?  The  grass  is  just  grow- 
ing green  on  the  sod  above  him ;  and  the  words  of  eulogy 
and  the  deep  wail  of  a  nation  are  almost  yet  stirring  the  air. 
He  died  bravely  as  he  had  lived.  He  had  lived  out  his  term 
and  worked  out  faithfully  his  time  ;  and  now  the  Republic 
mourns,  throughout  her  wide  borders,  and  will  honor  till  its 
last  stone  be  removed,  the  greatest  orator,  and,  except  Wash- 
ington, the  wisest  statesman  and  most  useful  citizen  this 
country  ever  called  into  her  service. 

And  so  the  long  feud  ended,  and  the  leaders'  fight  is 
over.  The  old  Knights  died  in  harness  and  were  buried 
with  the  honors  of  war,  and  chivalrous  enemies  do  homage 
to  their  graves. 

The  good  Knights  are  dust, 

And  their  good  swords  are  rust, 

And  their  souls  are  with  the  saints  we  trust. 


THE     END. 


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Opinions  of  the  Press. 

We  know  not  where  we  will  find  purer  morals,  or  more  valuable  "life-philosophy," 
than  in  the  pages  of  Miss  Sewell. — Savannah  Georgian. 

The  style  and  character  of  Miss  Sewell's  writings  are  too  well  known  to  the  reading- 
public  to  need  commendation.  The  present  volume  will  only  add  to  her  reputation  as 
an  authoress. — Albany  Transcript. 

This  novel  is  admirably  calculated  to  inculcate  refined  moral  and  religious  sentt 
rnents.—  Boston  Herald. 

The  interest  of  the  story  is  well  sustained  throughout,  and  it  is  altogether  one  of  the 
pleasantest  hooks  of  the  season. — Syracuse  Standard. 

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Noble,  beautiful,  selfish,  hard,  and  ugly  characters  appear  in  it,  and  each  is  so  drawn 
as  to  be  felt  and  estimated  as  it  deserves. — Commonwealth. 

A  re-publication  of  a  good  English  novel.  It  teaches  self-control,  charity,  and  a 
true  estimation  of  life,  by  the  interesting  history  of  a  young  girl. — Hartford  Oourant. 

Katharine  Ashton  will  enhance  the  reputation  already  attained,  the  story  and  the 
moral  being  equally  commendable.— Buffalo  Courier. 

Like  all  its  predecessors,  Katharine  Ashton  bears  the  impress  of  genius,  consecrated 
to  the  noblest  purposes,  and  should  find  a  welcome  in  every  family  circle.  —^Banner 
of  the  Cross. 

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authors  have  sent  so  many  faultless  writings  to  the  press  as  she  has  done. —  Worcester 
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The  self-denial  of  the  Christian  life,  in  its  application  to  common  scenes  and  cir- 
cumstances, is  happily  illustrated  in  the  example  of  Katharine  Ashton,  in  which  there 
is  much  to  admire  and  imitate — Southern  Churchman. 

Her  present  work  is  an  interesting  tale  of  English  country  life,  is  written  with  her 
usual  ability,  and  is  quite  free  from  any  offensive  parade  of  her  own  theological  tenets. 
—Boston  Traveller. 

The  field  in  which  Miss  Sewell  labors,  seems  to  be  exhaustless,  and  to  yield  always 
a  beautiful  andxa  valuable  harvest—  Troy  Daily  Budget. 


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The  Iron  Couiin,  or  Mutual  Influence. 

BY  MAEY  COWDEN  CLAEKE, 

A  .ithor  of   "  THE  GIRLHOOD  OF  SHAKSPEARE'S  HEROINES  ; "  the  "  COMPT,KT» 
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"  Mrs.  Clarke  has  given  us  one  of  the  most  delightful  novels  we  have  read  for  many 
a  day,  and  one  which  is  destined,  we  doubt  not,  to  be  much  longer  lived  than  the  majority 
of  books  of  its  class.  Its  chief  beauties  are  a  certain  freshness  in  the  style  in  which  the  in- 
ddents  are  presented  to  us — a  healthful  tone  pervading  it — a  completeness  in  most  of  the 
characters — and  a  truthful  power  in  the  descriptions.'1 — London  Times. 

"  We  have  found  the  volume  deeply  interesting — its  characters  are  well  drawn,  while 
Its  tone  and  sentiments  are  well  calculated  to  exert  a  purifying  and  ennobling  influence 
upon  all  who  read  it." — SavannaJi  Republican. 

"  The  scene  of  the  book  is  village  life  amongst  the  upper  class,  with  village  episodes, 
which  seem  to  have  been  sketched  from  the  life— there  is  a  primitive  simplicity  and  great- 
ness of  heart  about  some  of  the  characters  which  keep  up  the  sympathy  and  interest  to 
the  end."— London  Globe. 

"The  reader  cannot  fail  of  being  both  charmed  and  instructed  by  the  book,  and  of 
hoping  that  a  pen  so  able  will  not  lie  idle." — Pennsylvanian. 

"  We  fearlessly  recommend  it  as  a  work  of  more  than  ordinary  merit." — Binghampton 
Daily  Republic. 

"  The  great  moral  lesson  indicated  by  the  title-page  of  this  book  runs,  as  a  golden  thread, 
through  every  part  of  it,  while  the  reader  is  constantly  kept  in  contact  with  the  workings 
of  an  inventive  and  brilliant  mind."— Albany  Aryus. 

"  We  have  read  this  fascinating  story  with  a  good  deal  of  interest  Human  nature  is 
well  and  faithfully  portrayed,  and  we  see  the  counterpart  of  our  story  in  character  and 
disposition,  in  every  village  and  district.  The  book  cannot  fail  of  popular  reception."— 
Albany  and,  Rochester  Courier. 

"A  work  of  deep  and  powerful  influence.'' — Herald. 

"  Mrs.  Cowden  Clarke,  with  the  delicacy  and  artistic  taste  of  refined  womanhood,  has  :n 
this  work  shown  great  versatility  of  talent" 

"  The  story  is  too  deeply  interesting  to  allow  the  reader  to  lay  it  down  till  he  has  read 
ft  to  the  end." 

"The  work  is  skilful  in  plan,  graphic  in  style,  diversified  in  incident  and  true  to  nature." 

"The  tale  is  charmingly  imagined.  The  incidents  never  exceed  probability  but  seem 
perfectly  natural.  In  the  style  there  is  much  quaintness,  in  the  sentiment  much  tenderness.'1 

"  It  is  a  spirited,  charming  story,  full  of  adventure,  friendship  and  love,  with  characters 
nteely  drawn  and  carefully  discriminated.  The  clear  style  and  spirit  with  which  the  story 
Is  presented  and  the  characters  developed,  will  attract  a  large  constituency  to  the  perusal/' 

*  Mrs.  Cowden  Clarke's  story  has  one  of  the  highest  qualities  of  fiction— it  is  no  flickering 
•hadow,  but  seems  of  real  growth.  It  is  full  of  lively  truth,  and  shows  nice  perception  of 
the  early  elements  of  character  with  which  we  become  acquainted  in  its  wholeness,  and  in 
the  ripeness  of  years.  The  incident  is  well  woven ;  the  color  is  blood-warm ;  and  there  is 
the  presence  of  a  sweet  grace  and  gentle  power." 


Dumas's  last  and  best  Book. 

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HAVE      JUST      READY      THE      FIFTH      THOUSAND      OF 

THE    FORESTERS. 

BY    ALEX.    DUMAS. 
TRANSLATED     FROM     THE     AUTHOR'S     ORIGINAL 

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CONTEXTS. — To  my  Daughter. — The  New  House  on  the  Road  to  Soisson*. 
— Mathieu  Goguelue. — A  Bird  of  Evil  Omen. — Catherine  Blun, — The 
Parisian. — Jealousy. — Father  and  Mother. — The  Return. — Mademoiselle 
Euphrosine  Raisin. — Love's  Young  Dream. — The  Abbe  Gregoire. — 
Father  and  Son.— The  Village  F6te. — A  Snake  in  the  Grass. — Tempta- 
tion and  Crime. — The  Ranger's  Home. — Apprehension. — The  Book  oi 
the  Innocent. — Mathieu's  Trial 


Notices  of  the  Press. 

f'A  lively  story  of  love,  jealousy,  and  intrigue." — N'.  Y.  Com.  Advertiser. 

"Another  proof  of  Dumas's  unrivalled  talent." — Middletown  Sentinel. 

''The  talc  is  a  simple  one,  but  exciting  and  interesting.  The  scene  is  laid  in  Villers- 
(X  srets  in  France.  The  reputation  of  the  author  is  so  firmly  established,  that  in  our 
st»  Ing  that  the  translation  is  a  faithful  one,  our  readers  who  are  novel  readers  will  have 
hoard  sufficient."1— Phila.  Register. 

"  A  capital  story.    The  reader  will  find  the  interest  increase  to  the  end."— Phila.  Oaz. 

"  The  present  volume  fully  sustains  the  high  reputation  of  its  author ;  it  shows  a  very 
high  order  of  genius.  The  translation  is  such  perfectly  good  English,  that  we  easily  forget 
that  we  are  not  reading  the  work  in  the  language  in  which  it  was  originally  written." — 
Albany  Argus. 

"  A  short,  but  stirring  romance." — Boston  Atlas. 

"This  work  of  Dumas's  is  an  interesting  one.  The  plot  is  well  laid,  and  the  incidents 
hurry  on,  one  after  another,  so  rapidly  that  the  interest  is  kept  up  to  the  dose." — Hartford 
Courftnt.  \ 

"  It  is  a  capital  story,  and  an  unmistakable  Dumas's  work.  To  say  this,  is  to  bestow  upon 
it  sufficient  praise."—  Troy  Times. 

"This  new  story  of  Dumas  will  afford  a  delightful  resource  for  a  leisure  hour." — Th« 
Bizarre. 

"This  very  entertaining  novel  is  indubitably  one  of  Dumas's  best  efforts:  it  cannot  fail  to 
become  widely  popular." — N.  Y.  Courier. 

"  A  pleasing,  romantic  love  story,  written  with  the  author's  usual  vigor."— Newark  Adv. 

"  A  quiet  domestic  tale  that  must  charm  all  readers." — Syracuse  Daily. 

"  This  is  a  lively  story  of  love,  jealousy  and  intrigue,  in  a  French  village."— Phila.  DaiCy 
Time*. 

"The  fame  of  the  author  will  alone  secure  a  wide  circulation  for  this  book.  He  is  ont 
of  the  best  novel  writers  living.  'The  Foresters'  fully  sustains  his  great  reputation. "- 
Troy  Daily  Times. 

"This  exceedingly  entertaining  novel  is  from  the  pen  of  one  of  the  most  eminent  and 
celebrated  of  Modern  French  novelists— Alexander  Dumas."— Binghampton  Republican. 

"  This  production  of  the  celebrated  author,  is  written  in  the  same  masterly  style  for 
which  all  his  works  are  noted." — Hartford  Times. 

"The  Foresters,  as  a  work  by  itself,  is  one  of  many  charms.  That  the  book  will  b« 
eagerly  sought  after,  there  can  be  no  doubt.  That  every  reader  will  admire  it  is  none  ih« 
leas  certain.'' — Buffalo  Morning  Express. 

"It  will  be  found  an  interesting  story."— Arthur's  Home  Gazette, 

"  Tae  plot  is  extremely  pleasing,  and  the  book  must  meet  with  a  ready  and  extensiv* 
••'o." — Syracuse  Daily. 


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FARMINGDALE, 

A  TALE. 

BY  CAROLINE  THOMAS. 
Two  volumes,  12mo.,  paper  covers,  75  cents,  or  2  volumes  in  1,  cloth,  $1 

« It  is  a  story  of  New  England  life,  skilfully  told,  full  of  tender  interest,  healthy  in  it* 
etntiments  and  remarkably  graphic  in  its  sketches  of  character.  '  Aunt  Betsy '  is  drawn 
to  the  life."—  Home  Gazette. 

"  Farmingdale  is  the  best  novel  of  the  season."— Eve.  Post. 

"It  will  compare  favorably  with  the  'Lamplighter,'  by  Miss  Cummings,  and  the 
•  Wide,  Wide  World,'  by  Miss  Warner,  and  in  interest  it  is  quite  equal  to  either."— Boston 
Transcript. 

" '  Farmingdale,'  the  work  to  which  we  allude,  in  every  page  and  paragraph,  is  redolent 
of  its  native  sky.  It  is  a  tale  of  New  England  domestic  life,  in  its  incidents  and  manners 
so  true  to  nature  and  so  free  from  exaggeration,  and  in  its  impulses  and  motives  throughout 
so  throbbing  with  the  real  American  heart,  that  we  shall  not  bo  surprised  to  hear  of  as 
many  New  England  villages  claiming  to  be  the  scene  of  its  story,  as  were  the  cities  of 
Greece  that  claimed  to  be  the  birth-place  of  Homer." — Philadelphia  Courier. 

"  The  story  abounds  in  scenes  of  absorbing  interest  The  narration  is  every  where  de- 
lightfully clear  and  straightforward,  flowing  forth  towards  its  conclusion,  like  a  gentle  and 
limpid  stream,  between  graceful  hillsides  and  verdant  meadows."— Home  Journal. 

"This  is  a  story  of  country  life,  written  by  a  hand  whose  guiding  power  was  a  living 
soul.  The  pictures  of  life  are  speaking  and  effective.  The  story  is  interestingly  told  and  its 
high  moral  aim  well  sustained."— Syracuse  Chronicle. 

" '  Farmingdale,'  while  it  has  many  points  in  common  with  some  recent  works  of  fic- 
tion, is  yet  highly  original.  The  author  has  had  the  boldness  to  attempt  a  novel,  the  main 
interest  of  which  does  not  hinge  either  upon  love  or  matrimony,  nor  upon  complicated  and 
entangled  machinery,  but  upon  a  simple  and  apparently  artless  narrative  of  a  friendless 
girl."— Philadelphia  Eve.  Mail. 

"  The  author  studiously  avoids  all  forced  and  unnatural  incidents,  and  the  equally 
fashionable  affectation  of  extravagant  language.  Her  style  and  diction  are  remarkable  for 
their  purity  and  ease.  In  the  conception  and  delineation  of  character  she  has  shown  her- 
self possessed  of  the  true  creative  power."— Com.  Adv. 

"  A  simple  yet  beautiful  story,  told  in  a  simple  and  beautiful  manner.  The  object  is  to 
show  the  devoted  affection  of  a  sister  to  a  young  brother,  and  the  sacrifices  which  she  made 
for  him  from  childhood.  There  is  a  touching  simplicity  in  the  character  of  this  interesting 
female  that  -will  please  all  readers,  and  benefit  many  of  her  sex."—JIartford  CourarA. 

*  The  tale  is  prettily  written,  and  breathes  throughout  an  excellent  moral  tone.'1— Boston 
Daily  Journal. 

*  We  have  read  this  book ;  it  is  lively,  spirited,  and  in  some  parts  pathetic.    Its  sketches 
of  life  seem  to  us  at  once  graceful  and  vivid."— Albany  Argus. 

"The  book  is  well  written,  in  a  simple,  unpretending  style,  and  the  dialogue  is  natural 
and  easy.  It  is  destined  to  great  popularity  among  all  classes  of  readers.  Parents  who 
object  placing  'l®ve  tales'  in  the  hands  of  their  children,  may  purchase  this  volume  with- 
out fear.  The  oldest  and  the  youngest  will  become  interested  in  its  fascinating  pages,  and 
close  it  with  the  impression  that  it  is  a  good  book,  and  deserving  of  the  greatest  popularity." 
—  Worcester  Palladium. 


PARKYNS'  ADVENTURES  IN  ABYSSINIA 

D.  APPLETON  &  COMPANY,  346  &  348  BROADWAY 

HAVE  JUST  PUBLISHED 

LIFE  IN  ABYSSINIA, 

Being  the  Personal  Narrative  of  an  Englishman,  a  long  resident  in  th* 

Country. 

BY  MANSFIELD  PARKYNS,  Eso. 
With  Illustrations.     2  vols.  I2mo.     Price,  $2  50.     Cloth. 


LITERARY  CRITICISMS. 

"Of  one  thing  we  are  convinced,  and  that  is,  that  few  that  take  up  "Life  In 
Abyssinia,"  will  lay  it  down  without  reading  it  through,  and  without  exclaiming 
when  they  come  to  the  end  "  what  an  amusing  book  this  is,  and  what  an  agreeable 
savage  is  Mansfield  Parkyns.1' — BlackwoocTs  Magazine. 

"  Since  the  appearance  of  "  Typee  and  Omoo,"  we  have  seen  no  more  agreeable 
volumes  of  travel  than  those  of  Mr.  Parkyns" — Eve.  Post. 

"•Mr.  Mansfield  Parkyns  is  no  tourist,  but  a  genuine  traveller.  In  acquaintance 
with  Eastern  languages  and  manners  he  is  a  Buckhardt;  his  liking  for  Natural  History 
and  assiduity  as  a  collector,  reminds  us  of  Waterton;  while  in  his  passion  for  the 
chase,  and  occasional  introduction  of  elephants,  giraffes,  and  lions,  he  bears  an  obvious 
likeness  to  Campbell  or  Gordon  dimming." — Dul/lin  Magazine. 

"Remarkably  entertaining  and  interesting  volumes,  briinfull  of  adventures  and 
life.  We  have  read  them  with  perfect  gusto,  and  cordially  join  "Black  wood's  recom- 
mendation."— Boston  Atlas. 

"  A  story  of  three  years  in  Abyssinian  life,  by  one  so  keen  in  observation  and  fond 
of  adventure  as  Mr.  Parkyns  c&uld  not  but  promise  a  great  attraction ;  and  no  one 
who  opens  this  book  will  lay  it  down  in  disappointment  He  sketches  the  incidents 
of  his  travels  with  great  distinctness  and  vividness  and  portrays  character,  wherever 
he  meets  it,  capitally."— JV.  Y.  Courier. 

"  The  author  appears  to  have  become  thoroughly  naturalized  among  the  singular 
people  with  whom  it  was  his  lot  to  dwoll,  and  tells  the  story  of  his  adventures  with  a 
liveliness  and  freedom  from  reserve  that  are  extremely  captivating."— Jour,  of  Com. 

"Dulkiess  certainly  has  no  share  in  Mr.  Parkyns'  composition — it  is  a  capita] 
book."—  U.  S.  Gazette. 

"  This  is  no  ordinary  production." — Albany  Argus. 

"  Attractive  as  a  romance  while  they  have  the  merit  of  usefulness."— Boston  Cour. 

"  The  most  interesting  book  of  travel  issued  from  the  press  in  many  years." — Phila. 
Courier. 

"  In  every  respect  the  volumes  are  truly  attractive."— Ameri can  Courier. 

"  "We  have  been  highly  amused,  and,  we  must  say,  instructed,  in  the  perusal  of  Mr. 
Parkyn's  adventures." — Buffalo  Democrat. 

"  We  do  not  hesitate  to  commend  the  book  to  our  readers — it  will  amply  repay 
their  attention." — Hartford  Times. 

"The  work  fulfils  all  the  author  promises."—  Christian  Register. 

"To  all  who  are  in  any  kind  of  trouble  from  hot  weather,  bad  temper,  unpaid  bills, 
»nd  the  like  annoyances,  we  would  recommend  this  book."— Providence  Journal. 

"The  ntyle  is  pleasant  and  many  of  the  incidents  are  piquant  and  startling." — Roches- 
ter American. 

«•  These  are  two  delightful  volumes  of  travel,  fresh,  racy  and  glowing  with  life."— 
«Jom.  Advertiser. 


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ring realities  of  life,  it  will  hardly  give  place  to  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin."  The  authored 
to  well  known  to  the  public  by  her  many  charming  works  of  fiction,  and  her  life  hai 
been  passed  at  the  North  and  South.  The  nobleness  of  her  sentiments,  her  elevated  ami 
e&ndld  views,  her  genuine  feelings  of  humanity,  and  the  elegance  and  eloquence  of  her 
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EVENINGS  AT  DONALDSON  MANOR; 

OB,    THfc    CHRISTMAS    GUEST. 

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but  convey  lessons  of  love  and  charity  that  can  hardly  fail  to  leave  durable  impressiona 
of  moral  and  social  duty  upon  the  mind  and  heart  of  the  reader." — Evening  Mirror 

m. 

WOMAN  IN  AMERICA  ; 
H  E  A*    WORK    AND    HER    REWARD. 
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a  clear  insight  into  the  evils  surrounding  and  pressing  down  her  sex,  and  a  glorious  de- 
termination to  expose  and  remove  them.    Read  her  work.    She  will  win  a  willing  way 
to  the  heart  and  home  of  woman,  and  her  mission  wiil  be  found  to  be  one  of  beneficence 
and  love.    Truly,  woman  has  her  work  and  her  reward."— American  Spectator. 

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style  is  clear,  easy  and  simple,  and  the  construction  of  the  story  artistic  in  a  high  degree. 
We  commend  most  cordially  the  book." — Tribune. 

v. 

TWO  LIVES;  OR,  TO  SEEM  AND  TO  BE. 
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papular  in  the  best  sense  of  the  word.    The  simple  beauty  of  her  narratives,  combining 
pure  sentiment  with  high  principle,  and  noble  views  of  life  and  its  duties,  ought  to  win 
K>r  them  a  hearing  at  every  fireside  in  our  land.    We  have  rarely  perused  a  tale  more 
Interesting  and  instructive  than  the  one  before  us,  and  wo  commend  it  most  cordially  to 
ii*e  attention  of  all  our  readers." — Protestant  Churchman 

VL 

AUNT  KITTY'S  TALES. 

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HOME  SCENES  AND  HEART  STUDIES. 

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tttjon.  This  last  of  the  series  consists  of  a  variety  of  tales  and  sketches  well  calculated 
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We  recommend  this  series  of  books  to  our  readers,  and  especially  to  our  female  readers 
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THE  MOTHER'S^  RECOMPENSE. 

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THE  WOMEN  OF  ISRAEL. 

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graces  of  spirit,  which  have  placed  them  in  the  rank  of  examples  for  all  subsequent 
generations,  are  spread  before  us  with  a  geniality  of  spirit  and  a  beauty  of  style  which 
wiB  secure  the  warmest  admiration  ;  at  the  same  time  their  weaknesses  and  errors  we 
not  overlooked  or  excused."  —  Courier  and  Enquirer 


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>nnd  moral  reflection.  Every  thing  presented  to  the  reader,  whether  thought  or  imag* 
elaborated  with  tb3  finish  of  a  Flemi&n  painting  without  its  grossness ;  the  person 
are  nicely  conceived  and  consistently  sustained,  and  the  principal  narrative  is  relieved 
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•cenes  it  reminds  us  of  Miss  Austen."—  Times. 

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lessons  in  life  are  taught  in  the  work,  while  the  artistic  skill  with  which  the  narrative 
is  managed  imparts  a  vivid  interest  The  author  might  be,  with  a  stronger  infusion  of 
the  poetic  element,  another  Joanna  Baillie;  and  no  ere  will  read  the  work  without  a 
high  estimate  of  her  dramatic  powers  and  her  deep  insight"— Evangelist. 

III. 

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"  The  character  of  Madeleine,  the  heroine,  is  beautifully  drawn  and  powerfully  por- 
trayed. Miss'Kavanagh  is  most  known  by  her  excellent  novel  of  '  Nathalia'  Thte  book 
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WOMEN    OF    CHKISTIANITY. 

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••The  design  and  spirit  of  this  volume  are  alike  admirable.  Miss  Kavanagh  cHvlda 
er  work  into  four  periods ;  the  first  relates  the  deeds  of  holy  women  wider  the  Roman 
umpire ;  the  secon  \  tells  us  of  the  fruits  of  faith  in  the  middle  ages ;  the  third  is  devoted 
to  the  women  of  tho  seventeenth  century;  and  the  fourth  to  those  of  the  eighteenth  and 
present  centuries.  We  have  read  mafty  of  these  records  of  other  days,  as  told  by  Miai 
Kavanagh,  and  we  are  sure  that  the  influence  upon  every  Christian-minded  person 
Muuu>t  but  be  for  good,  if  he  will  meditate  upon  what  our  holy  religion  Is  every  day  do- 
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LINNY  LOCKWOOD. 

A  TALE. 
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AUTHOR  OF  "NIGHT  SIDE  OF  NATURE,"  "SUSAN  HOPLET,"  ETC. 
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THE  ATTIC  PHILOSOPHER  IN  PARIS; 

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FROM    AN     EDITOR'S     TABLE. 

By    L.   GAYLORL   CLARK,    Editor  of  the    "  Knickerbocker  Magazine  " 

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with  in  the  '  Gossip  '  of  the  Knickerbocker,  should  be  comparatively  lost  among  the 
multitudinous  leaves  of  a  magazine."  —  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

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healthful  mirth  and  wholesome  sadness.  The  Editor's  Table  of  the  Knickerbocker  has 
things  quite  too  good  to  be  forgotten,  and  it  is  well  thought  of  to  gather  them  and  gar- 
ner them  up  in  a  volume."  —  N.  Y.  Evening  Pout. 

"  A  collection  of  the  very  cream  of  the  good  things  which  during  nineteen  years  the 
popular  and  experienced  Editor  of  the  Knickerbocker,  Mr.  L.  Gaylord  Clark,  has  so 
bountifully  and  acceptably  spread  before  his  readers."—^  Y.  Albion. 

"  A  repast  of  which  thousands  have  partaken  with  zest,  and  found  intellectual  re- 
freshment, invigorating  and  delightful,  therefrom.  Mr.  Clark's  humor  ic  quiet,  soothing, 
irresistible:  it  diffuses  itself  through  your  whole  system,  and,  when  you  join  him  in  his 
benignant  smile,  a  glow  passes  all  ovor  you.  So  with  his  pathos,  it  is  not  mawkish,  nor 
exaggerated,  but  'the  real  tear:'  and  leaves  the  reader  —  if  our  temperance  friends  will 
not  pervert  our  meaning  —  with  a  '  drop  in  his  eye'  also."  —  Boston  Post. 

"  A  very  epicurean  feast  of  the  richest  and  daintiest,  culled  with  the  most  sedulous 
care  and  nicest  discrimination.  It  is  a  collection  of  luxuries  such  as  was  never  before 
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their  favorite  purveyor  wRh  old  Chaucer's  irrepressible,  Ah,  benediaite  I  Ah,  bene- 
dicite  /'  n—N.  Y.  Daily  Tribune. 

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genial  humor,  wit,  and  pathos,  which  have  given  such  a  zest  to  the  Knickerbocker  for 
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"•  A  most  various  and  pleasant  companion  for  tho  traveller  abroad,  or  the  stayer  at 
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"These  '  Knick-Knacks'  are  bound  to  have  a  run  wherever  Clark  and  the  Knicker 
locker  are  knovrn,  which  is  everywhere  this  side  of  the  Kaffirs  and  the  New  -Zealand 
era."  —  Nashua  (N.  II.)  Journal. 

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can  neither  resist  laughter  nor  forbid  tears  that  will  out,  and  must  have  vent,  when  the 
secret  strings  of  the  heart  are  touched.  '  Old  Knick  '  has  many  friends  and  admirers 
who  will  thank  him  for  this  excellent  idea.  His  '  Knick-Knacks'  will  go  off  like  hot 
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"To  doubt  the  success  of  the  'Knick-Knacks'  would  be  about  equal  to  doubting  the 
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American  history."—  Godefs  Lady's  Book. 

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for  the  'Knick-Knacks.'"—  Adrian  (Mich)  Watchtmoer. 

"  If  Cl&rk  does  not  print  and  sell  50,000  copies,  '  the  fbols  are  not  all  dead,'  .»•• 
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LADY  FULLEETON'S   NOVELS 

L  AD  Y-BIED. 

jne  Volume,  12mo.     Cloth,  75  cents ;  Paper  Cover,  50  cents. 

u  A  beautiful  and  affecting  story,  told  in  a  sweet  pure  style,  and  swaying  the  hew* 
"y  Its  natural  and  lif-Hke  scenes.  It  is  a  story  of  wilfulness,  trial,  misery,  and  of  beias 
.  i*!e  '  perfect  tlt"v»gii  suffering'  on  the  part  of  the  heroine  Gertrude,  the  '  Lady-Bk'l 
•t  he  story.  >»  *»ted  sentiments  and  pure  thoughts  are  the  characteristics  of  tbo 
*toi  y." — Albany  Knickerbocker. 

'•'  Tne  authoress  of  these  volumes,  if  she  has  not  the>significant  name  of  Currer  Bell, 
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giving  to  her  readers  not  only  much  to  charm  and  interest,  but  suggestions  for  earnest 
thought,  which  may  ripen  into  the  beautiful  characters  she  so  skilfully  depicts.  The 
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"  This  book  deserves  more  than  an  ordinary  notice.  We  do  not  often  read  novels ; 
but  when  we  opened  this  we  found  it  difficult  to  lay  it  down.  The  characteristics  are 
well  drawn,  and  unexaggerated,  so  that  they  seem  like  people  one  meets  every  day,  and 
the  interest  is  sustained  to  the  last,  with  a  great  deal  of  power."— Boston.  Pilot. 

ELLEN    M  ID  D  LET  ON. 

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sustained  throughout  There  is  no  stiffness  or  flagging  in  the  dialogues,  and  the  senti- 
ments are  pure." — Courier  and  Enquirer. 

"  Ellen  Middleton  is  a  work  of  much  interest  and  ability.  The  style  is  admirable, 
and  her  practical  observations  show  a  clearness  and  depth  of  thought  rarely  found 
imong  the  younger  members  of  the  fair  sex." — Boston  Stlas. 

III. 

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a  succession  of  mysteries  and  cross  purposes,  is  well  developed,  and  the  scene  and  char- 
acter painting  is  full  of  spirit  and  truth.  The  authoress  is  certainly  a  woman  of  genius, 
which  she  has  used  to  excellent  purpose." — Southern  Literary  Messenger. 

"Lady  Georgiana  Fullerton's  first  appearance  as  a  novelist  rendered  her  famous  ai 
•nee.  Ellen  Middleton,  her  lirst  production,  was  a  powerfully  constructed  story,  mani- 
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"The  book  is  an  excellent  one,  and  the  Lady  Georgiana's  style  is  admirable*,  tt  k 
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OAPT.  FOOTE'S  NEW  AND  HIGHLY  INTERESTING  WORK, 


Africa  and  the  American   Flag. 

BY  COMMANDER  ANDREW  H.  FOOTE, 

Lieut.  Commanding  U.  S.  Brig  "  Perry"  on  the  Coast  of  Africa, 
A.  D.  1850-51. 

ILLUSTEATED  WITH  HANDSOMELY  TINTED  LITHOGKAPHIC  PLATE& 
One  Volume,  12mo.  379  pages.     Price  $1  50. 


CONTENTS. 

Discoveries  by  French  and  Portuguese  along  the  Coast — Slave  Trade  Systematized 
—"Horrors  of  the  Middle  Passage''— African  Nations—Formation  of  the  American 
Colonization  Society — Disposal  of  Eecaptured  Slaves  by  the  American  Government — 
The  Commonwealth  of  Liberia — Thos.  H.  Buchanan — Use  of  the  American  Flag  in 
the  Slave  Trade — Slavers  at  Bassa — Expedition  against  them — Conflict — Death  of  King 
Bentrerai— Expedition  of  Buchanan  against  Gaytinnba— Death  of  Buchanan— His 
Character — Condition  of  Liberia  as  a  Nation — Aspect  of  Liberia  to  a  Visitor — Condition 
of  the  People  compared  with  that  of  their  race  in  the  United  States— Schools— Condi- 
tion of  Slaves  on  board  of  the  Slave  Vessels — Capture  of  the  Slave  Barque  Pons — Affair 
with  the  Natives  near  Palmas— Cruise  of  the  "  Perry"— Abuse  of  the  American  Flag— 
An  Arrangement  made  with  the  British  Commodore  for  the  Joint  Cruising  of  the 
"  Perry"  and  Steamer  "Cyclops" — Capture  of  the  American  Slave  Ship  "Martha" — 
Claims  to  Brazilian  Nationality — Letters  found  on  board  illustrative  of- the  Slave  Trade 
— St  Helfna — Appearance  of  the  Island — Island  of  Madeira — Interference  of  the  British 
Consul  with\the  "  Louisa  Benton" — Necessity  of  Squadrons  for  Protection  of  Com- 
merce and  Citizens  Abroad. 

This  ver}7  interesting  volume  makes  us  acquainted  with  very  im- 
portant facts  connected  with  the  efforts  of  the  American  Government 
to  suppress  the  Slave  Trade  on  the  Coast  of  Africa.  Lieut.  FOOTE  not 
only  places  before  us  a  record  of  what  occurred  whilst  he  was  in  com- 
mand of  the  U.  S.  Brig  "  Perry,"  but  gives  us  an  account  of  the  History 
and  Government  of  the  African  Kace — their  Manners  and  Customs,  an 
Account  of  the  Establishment  of  the  Commonwealth  of  Liberia,  its 
Condition,  Prospects,  <fec.,  tfec.  It  abounds  with  every  variety  of  inci- 
dent and  adventure,  and  will,  from  the  very  novelty  of  the  subject, 
have  a  wide  sale.  In  order  that  some  idea  may  be  formed  of  the  cha- 
racter of  the  work,  a  selection  from  the  table  of  contents  is  prefixed. 


APPLETONS'  POPULAR  LIBRARY. 

Now  Ready. 
ESSAYS  FROM  THE  LONDON  TIMES ;    A  Collection  of 

Personal  and  Historical  Sketches. 

THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS.    BY  W.  M.  THACKERAY. 
THE  MAIDEN  AND  MARRIED   LIFE  OF  MARY  POW- 

ELL:  afterwards  Mrs.  Milton. 

A    JOURNEY    THROUGH    TARTARY,    THIBET,    AND 

CHINA.    BY  M.  Hue. 

THE  PARIS  SKETCH  BOOK.     BY  W.  M.  THACKERAY. 
GAIETIES  AND  GRAVITIES.     BY  HORACE  SMITH,  one  of 

the  Authors  of  the  "  Eejected  Addresses." 

THE  INGOLDSBY  LEGENDS.     BY  BARHAM. 

PAPERS  FROM  THE  QUARTERLY  REVIEW. 

LITTLE  PEDLINGTON  AND  THE   PEDLINGTONIANS. 

By  the  Author  of  "Paul  Pry." 

A  JOURNEY  TO  KATMANDU;   OR,  THE  NEPAULESE 

AMBASSADOE  AT  HOME.    BY  LAWRENCE  OLYPHANT. 

THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.     BY  W.  M.  THACKERAY. 
^A   BOOK    FOR    SUMMER    TIME   IN    THE    COUNTRY. 

BY  THE  KEY.  E.  A.  WILLMOTT. 

STORIES  FROM  "BLACKWOOD." 

MEN'S  WIVES.     BY  W.  M.  THACKERAY. 

LIVES  OF  WELLINGTON  AND  PEEL. 

A  SHABBY  GENTEEL  STORY.     By  W.  M.  THACKERAY. 

A  SECOND  SERIES  OF  ESSAYS  FROM  THE  LONDON 

TIMES. 

CONFESSIONS  OF  FITZ  BOODLE  AND  MAJOR  GAHA- 

GAN.    BY  W.  M.  THACKERAY. 

THE  LUCK  OF  BARRY  LYNDON :    A  Romance  of  the 

Last  Century.    BY  W.  M.  THACKERAY. 

LIFE  AND  MEMORIALS   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER.    By 

GEN.  S.  P.  LYMAN.    Two  vols.  16mo. 

MR.  BROWN'S  LETTERS   TO  A  YOUNG  MAN.     THE 

PEOSEE,  &c.    By  W.  M.  THACKERAY.    50  cts. 

PUNCH'S  PRIZE  NOVELISTS.  THE  FAT  CONTRIBUTOR. 

TEAVELS  IN  LONDON.    By  W.  M.  THACKERAY.    50  cts. 

JEAMES'S  DIARY;    A  TALE  OF  THE  PANIC  OF  1845. 

A  LEGEND  OF  THE  EHINE;    EEBEO^A   AND  EOWENA.    By  W. 
M.  THACKERAY.    50  cts. 


Nearly  Beady. 
THE  INGOLDSBY  LEGENDS,  2D  AND  Bv  SERIES,  with  a  Life 

of  the  Author. 

THEODORE  HOOK'S  LIFE  AND  LITERARY  REMAINS. 
NTHE    MISCELLANEOUS    WORKS    OF    CHRISTOPHER,! 
0  NORTH.  () 

|Oc> /*QQ| 


THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  SANTA  CRUZ 


This  book  is  due  on  the  last  DATE  stamped  below. 

JAN  3    1373      I  JAN  2  5 1934  REC'D 
FEB20RECT) 

iCT31'84      I 

DEC    5 1984  REC'D 


DEC    41974 
DEC  4 


DEC  21 77 


DEC  9    1977  REC'D 


Wl 

FEB    8  '84      « 


APR  1  0  1986  REC'B 

DEC?   '86     'I' 


D€C 


50m-12,'70(P1251s8)2373-3A,l 


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3  2106  00059  5329 


